A Saiyan Homecoming
by Nadia Rose
Summary: After training with the Supreme Kai for several years, Gohan finally comes home only to find that everything's changed including him. Will he ever fit in again? Under serious revision.
1. Untimely Interruptions

Disclaimer:  I don't own it. (see chapter 1)

A Saiyan Homecoming

Chapter 2:  Untimely Interruptions

The sleek little red airship cut through the stiff morning breeze under the direction of a beefy, dark-haired man, who was returning his grandson home after spending the day with him.  Hercule Satan flinched as the sound of Barden's rumbling stomach filled the lavish cockpit of his personal airship.

"Are you hungry _again_, Barden?"  In the past twelve hours the boy had eaten almost everything in sight; and Hercule had been prepared for his coming!

The little boy shrugged, flashing his grandfather an apologetic smile.  "Sorry Pops.  Gran says I'll be starting my first growth spurt soon."

Hercule pulled his bushy brows together as he let the little ship glide along a particularly fast-flowing airstream he'd found a long time ago.  "Your first growth spurt?"  Kami forbid Videl have to feed this child all on her own!  He'd keep her cooking day and night!

Barden nodded, pulling a small bag from behind him and rummaging through it.  "Yeah," he surfaced with a package of particularly flavorless looking candies.  "Gran says that neither Dad or Uncle Goten noticeably shot up until they were about 9—when they both grew a few inches, but were still really short."  He popped one of the candies into his mouth.  "Then they have a really big growth spurt at about 13," he sucked loudly on the candy, "bringing them up to almost their full height."

Hercule frowned, not wanting to comprehend what his son-in-law's alien blood was doing to his grandson.  He'd asked about Pan once, and had his ears filled with so many technical terms he couldn't even comprehend the first sentence.  Pan had grown up into a fine young woman, as had that other little partial-alien girl; the Briefs girl she hung around with.  And years of experience had forced him to admit that his freak of a son-in-law was actually quite normal.

So the former World Champion assumed that his grandson would grow properly, and that Videl would tell him if Barden needed any sort of special treatment.

Hercule liked spending time with Barden; his grandson was the son he'd never had.  Of course, he couldn't fill the boy's ears with tales of his great exploits; but there was plenty to do.  Like fishing, or testing that new video-game console that everyone was raving about with a few rounds of Monster Mash and Rabid Racing.  It had been fun; despite the fact that Hercule lost every game.

"How was the party last night?"  He questioned his grandson.

"Fun," Barden slurred from around his third candy.  "Uncle Goten and I arm-wrestled; but Gran stopped us before we destroyed anything."  He laughed.  "Then Aunt Marron decided Uncle Goten ought to mind all the chibis, so we ended up playing a game of ki tag, and Damia blew up Mom's flowerbed!"

Hercule rolled his eyes, thankful that at least his grandson's name was semi-normal.  The boy's cousins all had very unusual names.  And all of their games seemed to end up with somebody blowing something up, and then the loudmouthed woman yelling at them all.  After his first two meetings with Gohan's friends, Hercule only made an appearance when forced.  And he'd taken Videl out for a private birthday celebration a few nights ago.

Hercule was surprised when Pan had shown up on his doorstep with her little brother, but had been more than happy to take him for the day.  He didn't get to spend nearly enough time with either of his grandkids.

But it was time to get Barden home to Videl; she hadn't answered her phone all day so they could tell her where Barden was.  And as lackadaisical as Videl seemed when it came to his training with those abnormal creatures, she worried when Barden was unaccounted for over long periods of time.

He dropped the airship to the flat open space on the lawn in front of his daughter's unimposing home, and Barden scrambled out, heading straight for the front door.

Hercule chuckled and began to climb out of the jet, stopping in surprise when Barden came dashing back across to him, looking pale.  "What's wrong, Barden?"

"There's a man," Barden gasped.  "In Momma's room!  He's big—bigger than you are even—and—his hair!  Lots of hair!"

Hercule frowned.  "There's a man in your Mother's room?"  A man in his precious daughter's room?  His scrawny son-in-law was the only man allowed in Videl's room!    The nerd-boy rightly worshipped the ground she walked on, and Hercule doubted she'd ever consider another man—the one time he'd tried to set her up on a date after she'd started going out with Gohan she'd put the man in the hospital because he touched her.

So what was a man doing in there now?

"They're making all kinds of noises!"

Hercule's overprotective father mode flared into full force as his brain made the connection between Barden's noises and actions, and how strong a man would have to be to take his daughter by force.  He grabbed his cell-phone and called the police, not noticing when his grandson took to the air and headed up the mountain; towards his grandmother's house.

He had barely pocketed his phone when the golden-haired figured of Barden's Uncle appeared over the horizon, towing his mother and his nephew, one in each hand.  Goten dropped them when he was above Hercule, and began to approach the house.

Hercule was startled to see the Son woman land as lightly on her feet as if she had stepped out of a car.  Barden dropped like a stone, but caught himself just before he fell.

Chichi planted both hands on her hips while staring intently at the master bedroom's window.  "Why didn't you do anything," she snapped angrily.  "Are you just going to stand down here while some monster does unspeakable things to your daughter?"  She cocked her head for a moment and then changed her mind.  "No—don't answer that."  Hercule closed his mouth and lowered the finger he had raised to point at her.  "You may be a lot of talk—but you're not very strong compared to Videl—and anything that could subdue her would take someone with extensive strength and training."  She narrowed her eyes at him.  "Besides, I'm sure it would make you oh-so-powerful in Barden's eyes if I had to rescue you!"

Hercule snorted.  Who was this old hag to talk?  She was the one foolish enough to marry an alien, after all.  And as for training well; he'd been training his entire life.  He could handle one foolish loud-mouthed woman.  "Just who do you think you're talking to?  I'm Hercule Satan," he boasted loudly, "and I won the 24th and 25th martial arts tournaments.  I've been training since I could walk!"

Chichi snorted, and fixed him with a decidedly frosty glare.  "So have I."  She laughed coldly, sending chills down Hercule's back.  "I may not be directly Turtle-trained, Hercule Satan, but I'm no wilting flower when it comes to martial arts.  I could kill people by the time you were learning to break boards with your feet!"  She shook her head.

"Aunt Bulma says Gran used to be the strongest woman on Earth," Barden piped up, obviously amused at the sight of his domineering grandmother lashing into his grandfather.  It wasn't often someone brought Hercule down to size; and it was even rarer that someone talked back to his grandmother.  Like any true Saiyan, he was hoping to see actual blows come from this verbal battle.  His grandmother wasn't as muscular as Hercule; but she was quick and fast—more than enough to get past his guard.  Besides—he'd heard stories about his gran's fighting skills—he wanted to actually see them!

But, perhaps thanks to Dende's timely intervention, the brewing catastrophe on the lawn was interrupted by a woman's scream.

It was followed by a man's roar, and a loud crash.

"Videl?"  Hercule bellowed, angered enough to actually consider storming the place.

Beside him, Chichi rummaged in the pockets of her gi and produced a handgun.

Goten appeared at the front door of the house, cheeks the same color as Hercule's jet.

He turned around to look at the three anxious faces awaiting him and managed a sheepish grin.  "I'm pretty sure everything's gonna be ok now."

The sound of more struggling and a woman's voice yelling something indecipherable carried from the partially open window, and was cut off with the sound of a loud metallic clank, and running water.

Hercule frowned.  "Then what's my daughter still screaming about?"  He nearly grabbed the gi of the black-haired man in front of him then remembered that this man could crack his head open as easily as he would an egg and lowered his hand—but just barely.

Chichi, however, had no such reservations.  She gave her son the glare that had set the galaxy's strongest warriors quivering in their boots, and made her son immediately recount all his recent misdemeanors and wonder which one she'd discovered.  "Goten!  Did you take care of it then?"

Goten gave her a lost puppy look, managing to color even more brightly.  "Well, mom—there wasn't anything to really take care of…"

"What do you mean there isn't anything to take care of?"  Chichi roared in fury.  Barden plugged his thumbs in his ears as she continued on.  "Some…some…thing is up there doing unspeakable things to your sister and you're not doing anything to stop it?"

Goten lowered his eyes and idly traced circles with one foot.  How could he tell his mom what he'd seen?  She'd kill him for interrupting!  Of course, she'd kill him if he didn't tell her, either…and there really wasn't anywhere he could run.  He couldn't hide from his brother.  "Um…well Mom," he swallowed.

Two police cars, sirens wailing, appeared at the bottom of the lawn, having been sent from the local precinct.  Several heavily armed men in uniforms piled out, rushing towards the gathering on the porch.

"You reported a crime-in-progress, Mister Satan?"  The leader asked while he snapped the world's hero a salute.

Hercule nodded, grabbing his one chance at taking charge.  "Um yeah—well, I was taking my grandson home, and he said he saw a strange man in his mom's room, and well…his Dad's on sabbatical…and Videl would never cheat on him!"  He glanced at his grandson, hoping he had managed to convey things without frightening the boy any further.

"So you're calling to report a rape?"  One spindly man dressed in a trenchcoat, and armed with a notepad that he was scribbling in, stepped forward.

"Yeah—that's it!"  Hercule agreed.

As one, the men reached for their weapons and prepared to hurtle towards the door.

"Ah, Mom?"  Goten questioned, tapping his mother on the shoulder.  "There's something you should know…"

"Not now!"  She hissed.  "Can't you see the detective is busy?"

"Did anyone see the perpetrator?"

"He did!"  Hercule pointed to Goten, who was standing between the police and the doorway.

"Sir?"  The detective asked in his nasally voice, "can you tell me what you saw?"

"Actually," Goten said, "there's really nothing going on up there for you to be worried about."

"Let us worry about that sir," one of the heavily-armed policemen said stiffly, obviously itching to break down the door and attack the person who was harming Miss Videl.  Even now, the police still held a great fondness for her.

The detective literally cornered Goten, having heard his statement.  "You mean you've been up there, sir?"

Goten nodded.

"What does he look like?"

Goten firmed up and shook his head.  "There's nothing wrong!  I don't know who called you, but Videl is fine."

There was a loud clatter from inside the house—the sound of glass breaking.

The armored policemen had heard enough to disregard the detectives pointless questions, and moved in, trying to shove the muscular man in the orange gi out of the way.

He frowned, crossed his arms over his chest, and stood firm.  "You don't want to go in there," he warned.  "You'll only get hurt."

"There are 8 of us—with guns—and only one of him," the lead police goon pointed out to Goten.  "Let us do our job and just get out of the way!"

With a rueful shrug and a frightened glance at his furious mother, Goten stepped out of the way.  If they found themselves ki-blasted into the next dimension it wasn't really his fault—he'd warned them!

The policeman walked forward and lifted his foot to kick the door in.  Before it could connect, the door opened, revealing a mussed Son Videl wearing nothing but a bedsheet.

By some miracle, the man managed to kick the doorframe instead of the woman he wanted to save.

Videl took one look at the heavily armed policemen and various family members scattered across her front porch.  She pinned Goten with a fierce glare, who only shrugged and stepped back to stand with Barden.

Chichi and Hercule moved as one towards her, asking if she was all right and where the monster was who had hurt her so badly.  Goten groaned and tugged Barden out of the way as the others mobbed Videl.

After managing to push them off, the heroine of Satan city tucked her bedsheet tighter around her body and demanded, "Will someone _please_ tell me what's going on down here?"

All of the police had frozen in shock at her appearance, and were very careful to keep their eyes above the top of her rather unorthodox attire.

"We've come to rescue you from your evil attacker!"  One young officer cried out, having turned a florid shade of red at the sight of his hero wearing a very thin, pale white sheet that fluttered in the brisk breeze.

Videl lowered her eyebrows in confusion and held the bottom of the sheet closed with one hand.  "Who said I needed rescuing?"

"What's going on down here?"  A low voice growled from behind her, from where.  "Where is he?  We're going to have a little chat about other people's privacy."

Videl grinned smugly and pointed at the younger man, who was trying to keep his nephew from attacking the owner of the voice and shaking his head frantically at her.  "Using Barden as a living shield in the corner."

Each of the police readied their favorite weapon upon the doorway, the detective motioning to Videl and Goten to draw the man out of the house.  Hercule Satan would not be happy if his daughter's house was destroyed in the process of killing that criminal.  But then again; perhaps he would:  that way his little girl would be living with him again.

"I'm sorry!"  Goten protested.  "I didn't mean to—really…it's just that Barden said there was some strange man in your room!  I didn't think it would be you!"

The man standing in the safety zone behind Videl growled again, and Goten shuddered.

Chichi stared at him in shock, exchanging her handgun for the more familiar frying pan.  "Son Goten!  What's gotten into you!  With the exception of two—maybe three—people you can take anyone on this planet!"

Goten flinched and looked toward the door, and tightened his hold on his nephew.  "I'm really sorry guys—I didn't mean it!"

"Didn't mean it doesn't stop it from happening now, does it!"  Videl snapped, stepping out onto the porch and getting in Goten's face, sheet billowing in the breeze.  "Now will you please tell me why the police are here!"

"Yes," the mysterious voice agreed, "I'd like to know what's going on as well."

The biggest man any of the police had ever seen stepped from the darkness of the house into the light of the front porch, dressed only in a tight pair of gym shorts.  His arms and legs were easily as large Hercule's, but this man was all muscle; when he breathed his entire chest rippled.  A wild mane of spiky black hair drifted past his calves, giving him the look of a barbarian warrior.  The massive sword he held casually in one hand only enforced his dangerous image.

"Kami, he's huge," the detective breathed.

"Saiyaman help us," another pleaded.

The corner of the man-god's thin lips lifted in a smirk, sending chills through all of the officers.  But their mission not forgotten, they all raised their weapons.

"Freeze!"  The young officer bellowed.  "You're under arrest!"

One heavy black eyebrow arched, and the snapping eyes filled with confusion.  "May I ask what for?"  His voice was quiet, educated—maybe even civil, but the expression he wore on his face was terrifying.

Chichi eeped and went to duck behind the closest man.  Then she realized it was Hercule, and was better on her own.  "Radditz."  She wondered quietly to herself.  "How did you get out of hell?"

Goten glanced at his mother, worried by her pale expression.  Who was this Radditz person?

"What for?"  Hercule bellowed, encouraged by the policemen with guns who would protect him.  "You just raped my daughter!"

Videl, who had laid a comforting hand on Barden's shoulder, began to cough.  "Dad," she hissed angrily, he didn't rape me!"

Hercule cast a soothing look at his daughter.  "Don't deny it, sweat pea.  Let your old man take care of this…thing!"  He sneered at the unnamed man.  "You'll never touch anyone again, you rapist!"

Barden looked up at his Uncle, who was still very red.  "Uncle Goten?  What's rape?"

Goten nearly went purple.  "It's something you should never do," he said firmly, hoping that would satisfy the boy's curiosity.

The man's eyebrows lowered.  "Rape?"  He repeated blankly.  "Me?"  He shook his head and crossed the porch to Videl, ignoring the guns still pointed at him.

Iron-hard arms wrapped around her waist, and Videl leaned back into his chest, giving her father a bright smile.  "Since when did it become a crime for a man to love his wife," he snarled dangerously.

"His wife?"  Everyone else, minus Goten, echoed blankly.

"Gohan?"  Chichi gasped, horrified that she hadn't recognized her own son, and even confused him with an evil relative!  What kind of mother was she turning out to be?

A quick smile from the man holding Videl sent Chichi reeling, grabbing onto the porch railing for support.

"Dad!"  Barden screeched, quickly scaling his father's hair to wrap his arms around his neck.  "You came home!"

Gohan winced and detached his son's fingers from his hair with one hand.  "Hi, Barry," the boy beamed at the use of his special nickname, "I'm sorry it took so long to get home."  He coughed.  "Can you let go of my neck for a minute?  I can't breathe."

Barden flushed, and dropped back to the floor of the porch.  "Sorry Dad."

Gohan massaged his neck with one hand while pulling Videl to him with the other.  "That's ok, Barry."

Chichi stared hard at Goten.  "Why didn't you tell me your brother was home before the police got here?"

Goten blushed.  "Um—well…Gohan and Videl weren't…in any…erm…position…to be disturbed."

Chichi paused.  "What?"

She took in Gohan's attire; and Videl's…sheet, and her mind jumped to a very predictable conclusion.  "I'm gonna have another grandbaby," she exclaimed, hands clasped together.

Gohan and Videl turned matching shades of red while everyone else sweatdropped.  Hercule found himself torn between disgust and anger, but settled for trying to take the attention away from his daughter.  She'd skin him once she found out he was the one who summoned the police.

Before he could say anything, however, Gohan, if this mountain of a man was indeed his freakish son-in-law, took charge.  "Now that everything has been settled," he began with tightly controlled civility, "it appears that your," he gestured to the police, "presence is not needed."  He frowned.  "Nor is it wanted, at this particular moment.  I've been away from my family for a _very_ long time," his hold on Videl tightened, dark eyes nearly burning holes through the onlooker's heads.  "And my wife and I were in the middle of re-aquainting ourselves when we were interrupted."

Goten began to stammer his apologies, but silenced at a look from his older brother.  It had been a long time since he'd seen Gohan this angry; and well—his ki was starting to soar.  His brother had been _training, _and Goten wasn't about to try to see its results.

Gohan turned his glare back out at the small, terrified huddle of policemen and Mister Satan, and a rather awestruck Chichi blathering on about a sixth grandchild.  Someone had the presience to protect her; not that Gohan would ever hurt his mother—not in a hundred lifetimes.  So she stood unconcerned in the middle of the circle, telling anyone who would listen that she wanted a grandson.

Nestled against Gohan's chest, Videl giggled quietly, drawing Barden to her in order to save Gohan's scalp.

Gohan, however, was too involved in delivering his ultimatum to notice Videl's mood.  He'd been interrupted, and he wasn't happy about it!  If he had any less control these little mortals would be meeting King Enma shortly.

But Gohan was nothing if not controlled, so he settled for merely baring his teeth in a Piccolo-style snarl.  "If you value your existence it would be best to get back into your vehicles and go back to your rather insignificant lives and forget this ever happened."

He was met by a crowd of blank-faced stares.

"At the very least, you can get off my lawn!"

The big man casually slung his son up to sit on one shoulder, hefted his sword over the other shoulder, and guided his wife back into the house, kicking the door shut behind him.

Unfortunately, the motion of kicking the door shut had dislodged his impressive mane of hair, leaving it free to be caught by the slamming door.

There was a roar of pain from inside the house, and Videl appeared at the door again, opening it enough to free the black strands.  Through the crack the officers could hear a steady string of curses in languages none of them could recognize.

Videl shook her head, and glanced up at the visitors.  "Sorry about that; the last few weeks of his sabbatical have been…pretty tense."  She frowned at the continuing words from inside, then shook her head.  "I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here for nothing, but it would be best if you left."

"But Videl…"

"No, Dad."  She said firmly, cutting off her father's protest.  "Not now.  I'll call you later tonight."  She smiled apologetically at the others, and disappeared back inside the house, leaving them staring at the solid expanse of a closed door.

After a few moments, the shock finally receeded enough that they could move.

"Well," one man murmured as he helped heft the battering ram to carry back to the aircar, "that was different."

"Who'd've thought the Professor could look like that," his companion agreed as they followed their companions.

"That was the Professor?"  The kid was shocked.  "Miss Videl's Professor?"

"It had to be kid," another officer commented.  "Miss Videl won't even so much as look at another man—and she's strong enough to beat 'em all off too—even Saiyaman respected her."

"Saiyaman," the cadet mused, "I wonder what happened to him?"

"Nobody knows—he just kinda disappeared," and like Saiyaman, the sounds of the police disappeared as they gathered up their equipment and returned to headquarters, not quite sure what had happened—but most certainly ready to tell the tale.

Hercule climbed back into his private jet to head back into Satan City, only to find Barden's packet of candy lying in the passenger seat.  He considered taking it back to him; but had no intentions of disturbing his son-in-law again.  He'd keep it until Barden came to visit again.  He shrugged and lifted off.

Inside, Gohan flopped onto the couch, pulling Videl and Barden down with him.  Barden giggled, then got up to find something to eat, leaving his parents alone together.  Videl straddled her husband's waist and dropped a light kiss on his lips before making herself comfortable.  "It's been an interesting day, hasn't it?"

Gohan sighed.  "Did I really just threaten a dozen armed police officers in front of my mother?"

Videl laughed and nodded, absently tracing the lines of Gohan's face with her fingers.  "I really don't think she noticed that much…she was far too interested in more grandchildren."

Gohan smirked and pulled her closer to him, deftly unwinding the sheet.  "Shall we make good on that promise?"

"Gohan!"  Videl hissed, struggling half-heartedly, "Barden's in the next room!"

"We can be quiet," he teased gently.  "Besides—he's busy feeding his face."  He lifted his head slightly and caught her lips in a long kiss, turning all of her bones into jelly.

Kami, she could never get enough of him.

They were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass from the next room, and Barden's shriek of surprise.

Gohan sighed in resignation as Videl pulled away from him and readjusted her sheet.  "Honestly," she muttered, "Can't any of you Saiyans make your own food?  I'd better go make sure he hasn't set the kitchen on fire," she murmured, hastily disappearing into the kitchen.

Gohan watched her go, admiring the curves that were perfectly accentuated beneath the pale white sheet.  He lifted himself up off the couch and headed back towards the bathroom; and a cold shower.

While the water spread over his body, he contemplated his actions.  All he'd wanted was to spend a little time alone with his wife; not threaten all the local law-enforcement.  At least, he consoled himself, there hadn't been a reporter present.  That would have been a disaster.

Outside on the porch, Goten was trying to pry his mother away from the window.  "C'mon Mom," he pleaded.  "The Dojo opened twenty minutes ago, and Marron's probably worried about us."  He sighed as his mother cooed about how cute Videl and Gohan were together.  After over twenty years, that was getting very old.

"Mom?"  He finally resorted to physically pulling his mother away.  "We have to go."

As they shot off into the distance, Chichi finally categorized her son's new appearance, and wasn't happy.  "Your brother needs a haircut," she told Goten seriously.  "Of all the people to try to resemble—he chose Radditz!  Even _Piccolo's_ better than him!"

Not too far away, a recently reincarnated Namek heard his name.  So Gohan had come back too?  He'd have to visit him.  But first he needed to speak to Dende to see exactly how he'd been brought back to life this time.

"Mom," Goten questioned, confused.  "Who's Radditz?"

* * * * * * * * *


	2. A Happy Birthday

Disclaimer:  I don't own DBZ, and don't intend any copyright infringements.  I'm just having fun.

A Saiyan Homecoming

By Nadia Rose

Chapter 1

The sun was sinking well past the mountains when the house finally emptied.  Videl sighed and removed the crown of honor from her head, careful to place it on top of the armoir in the hall so that the delicate paper would not be crushed by a careless move.  Barden and Pan had really outdone themselves this time—the careful cut-outs of swords and dragonballs were obviously Pan's work, but the brilliant colors and glitter were courtesy of her son.  Videl was glad that Pan and her much younger brother got along; she'd agonized that they wouldn't for a long time.

She needn't have worried; Barden and his sister were close enough that Videl often caught him calling his sister in the middle of the night to pour out his worries to her.  Videl worried that Trunks might put a stop to it once he and Pan had wed, but as of yet, nothing bad had come of it.  Videl suspected that Trunks was fond of Barden, too, considering the number of times he'd come to spar with him.

In fact, that was where Barden was now; off at Capsule Corps to use the gravity room with Goten, Trunks, and Bra.

Leaving Videl alone in a house filled with the remnants of one Z-fighter sized party.  Considering 6 of them had Saiyan blood there was surprisingly few dishes scattered about the house.  Videl suspected Chichi and Lunch had seen to that; but the rest of her house still looked like a disaster zone.

She wandered through the front room, absently kicking aside a pile of blue streamers and balloons that Goten and Barden had ripped from their places while wrestling.  One of the streamers managed to wrap itself around her ankle and she bent down to rip it off, throwing it at the banner that dangled next to the door; it too, had been damaged in the wrestling match.

Videl stared sourly at the words proclaimed across it in bold blue letters:  _Happy Birthday Videl!_

It hadn't really been a happy birthday.

She flopped down on the couch and buried her head in one of the throw pillows, which she promptly chucked across the room.  It smelled like Oolong, and while she had long ago adjusted herself to the talking pig and his feline counterpart, well, sometimes Oolong still smelled like a pig.  And that shape-shifting thing just weirded her out.

The next pillow, fortunately, was a mix of Yamcha's cologne and Bulma's more familiar perfume, so she dropped her head to it and stared at the wreckage of her living room.

It had been quite a party, but Videl hadn't gotten the one gift she wanted.

She wanted her husband; not a birthday bash in which some of the planet's most eccentric individuals tried to kill each other over pieces of cake.

But then she thought of her mother in law, and knew that she could make it.  Chichi had, and she'd been through this almost all of her adult life, was doing so even now.  But this time her husband wasn't coming back; at least not in her lifetime.

Gohan had promised to come back.

She didn't think his absence would be so depressing.

He'd been gone over a full two years, and in that time, so much had happened that it made Videl's head spin.  Goten and his wife had added child number three to their family, he and Chichi had started a martial arts school, where Videl occasionally taught the most advanced students.  She'd seen her daughter fall in love and marry—she and Chichi had a private bet on when a grandchildren announcement would be made.

And Barden was slowly becoming more and more like his father with each passing day.  Videl had seen pictures of an 8-year-old Gohan, and the similarities between the two were striking.  Barden could have been a clone of his father, had it not been for the blue eyes he'd inherited from her.  The expressions they showed, however, were still his father's.

Sometimes the resemblance was so strong it hurt to look at him.

At least she could be depressed alone; her increasingly dark moods worried Barden.  With any luck, he would be invited to stay over at Capsule Corps tonight so she could brood alone.

Six months ago she would have been worried sick about him going to spar with the boys in the gravity room, but now, she just let him go.  They couldn't really hurt him; but unfortunately, he could hurt her, and had, on more than one occasion.  The little boy wanted so badly to learn the martial arts that were deeply ingrained in his family, but he was just too strong for her.  She'd tried to teach him; but in their first spar he'd broken a handful of her ribs and punctured one of her lungs.  She'd been forced to let him train with the adult Saiyans.

They wouldn't hurt him, though.  Goten was always very careful around those weaker than himself, and Pan would withhold certain privileges from Trunks if she thought he'd been too rough.  Videl smiled to herself at the thought of that battle; Trunks was more like his father in some ways than he would ever care to admit.

A streamer came loose from the window, and fluttered down over her face.

She really ought to get up and start to clean up the mess, but her heart wasn't in it.  With a sigh she clutched the pillow to her chest and settled down to take a nap.  At least she could dream about him on her birthday.

Gohan popped up almost immediately in her dreams, as if the polite green god had heard and granted her pleas.  Her husband stood in the doorway of the living room, pale-skinned and bright-eyed, smiling brightly at her.  He crossed the room to sit on the coffee table to watch her.  She quickly shut her eyes again, pretending to be asleep.

Videl noticed that the dream felt so real that he could actually be sitting next to her, and wondered if Dende hadn't had something to do with it.  She'd never dreamed in such detail before.

Dream-Gohan smiled and ran large hand across her cheek and down her neck. "You're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered huskily in her ear.

She smiled happily and rolled onto her back.  She'd have to remember to thank Dende when she woke up; this was better than she had hoped.

Gohan smiled and stroked wisps of her hair back from her face, and leaned in to kiss her, a Prince charming rousing his sleeping beauty.  Videl wriggled in anticipation at the touch of the soft lips that would send floods of desire through her body.  Waking up alone was going to devastating after this; but she didn't really care.

She eagerly awaited the coming kiss; but it never came.  Gohan stopped when his lips were mere centimeters from her own, and whispered, "C'mon Vi, wake up."

Videl's mind screamed in frustration.  Where was her kiss?  The blinding kiss that would manage to convey all the feelings that he would never voice to her aloud—where was it?

She pushed dream Gohan away from her and turned her back to him, letting him know her displeasure.

"Please, Videl," he pleaded softly, slightly amused.  "I don't know what you're dreaming about, but it's better in real life."

Videl snorted, close to tears.  Now even her dream husband was refusing her?  Telling her to wake up and face the fact that she was alone?  No.  She'd stay asleep and be unhappy in his presence; just because she could see him there.

A large hand fell upon her shoulder, rolling her over and squeezing gently.  "Come on, Videl," he whispered again, eerily real.  "It's time for you to wake up now."

She opened her eyes to gaze one last time into the dark eyes of her husband.  He was right, no good would come of dwelling on what she couldn't have.  He smiled and nodded at her, and she pushed herself back into consciousness and opened her eyes.

Only to find the same eyes she'd just seen in her dream staring back at her.

Gohan was home.

Before she could even remember to breathe, he covered the last few centimeters and covered her lips with his own, managing to put all of his guilt, apologies, and love into the overwhelming kiss.

She flung her arms around her neck, and buried her face into his rock-hard chest, trying to hide her tears of joy.  Gohan always hated it when she cried.

One of his arms caught her by the waist and she found herself cradled in his lap like a little girl, his hands stroking her hair and back as she cried.

After a few moments he lifted her chin and pressed his lips to hers again, this time filling her with something much more satisfying than the first kiss.  This one was filled with longing—and desire.

She kissed him as fervently as he did her.

When they finally broke apart for air, he gave her a feral grin and picked her bodily, half slinging her over one broad shoulder.

When he carried her off in the direction of the bedroom, her hand caught the banner hanging off the door.

As she let it drift back off down the stairs, she decided it had been a happy birthday after all.

**********


	3. Dinner Plans

A/N:  Here you go!  I'm trying to get at least one chapter out on all of my stuff before I leave for a trip.  This was originally going to be a really long chapter, but I figured it would flow a bit better if I cut it up into a few smaller pieces…so here you are!

Many thanks go out to Maria, for without her help this story wouldn't exist (she helped me beat down Darth Writer's block so you got this much…)

I'm starting an email update list—if you want to be notified via email when I update (my summer is really screwed up—so chapters will come irregularly) please leave your email address in a review or email me.

Amelia—thanks!  Yeah, Gohan's Saiyan half has been making him evil—and the fun is just beginning….

C-chan—The hair will all be explained; but not before I wring as many jokes off of it as I can…

vsd2oc—hmmm as for Chichi recognizing Radditz, I'm just going to assume that sometime over her marriage to Goku, she's learned what he looked like, either through their bond or descriptions.  Yes, Gohan is buff—probably a lot like Mirai Gohan, since he's done nothing but train for the past several years…the hair thing has happened to me, although it's always been car doors…thanks for all the compliments!

Thanks, Vegeta Jr., Android 71, game gal, sorceress fujin, Spaz, and Rarity 88.

Disclaimer:  I don't own DB, DBZ, or DBGT.

A Saiyan Homecoming

By Nadia Rose

nadiarose3@hotmail.com

Chapter 3:  Dinner Plans

Evening found Gohan sprawled out on the floor in one of his gis, watching the evening news.  Barden was sitting on the couch with his homework in front of him, much more interested in his father than his algebra problems; but he'd been lucky they'd allowed him to sit in the living room to do his homework instead of going back to his desk.  Videl was off in the kitchen cooking dinner.

Barden sighed as he glanced at the paper covered in equations and little drawings of triangles and circles in his father's handwriting.  His Dad explained things too well—he couldn't ask for help he didn't really need again.  He went back to his homework, wondering what had amused his father so much.

Gohan was laughing so hard he was nearly rolling on the carpet, clutching his ribs.  

Videl came to the doorway, a worn apron tied around her waist.  "Gohan!  What in Kami's name has gotten into you?"

Gohan continued laughing at such a length his wife wondered if he was going to turn blue from lack of oxygen.  "I can't believe they made him a news anchor," he gasped during a needed break.

Videl glanced at the television screen, wondering whom he was talking about.  When she saw who was on the screen she frowned at her mate.  "He's been a news anchor for over a year now, Gohan.  I don't see what you find so amusing."

"But it's Sharpener," Gohan retorted between chuckles.  "I never would have thought that _Sharpener, _who thought he was Kami's gift to women, would end up as a news anchor!  I mean, he just wasn't the type to do that sort of thing at all."

Videl frowned down at him, hands on hips.  "I'm sure he thought you weren't the type to spend your entire life saving the universe, either."

"No," Gohan agreed, clutching his ribs as he caught his breath.  "But I was trying to keep _that_ a secret.  I just never thought Sharpener would like doing something like that."

"He was pretty intent on discovering who The Great Saiyaman was," Videl pointed out.

"Only because you liked me," Gohan replied.  "He wanted to know more about his competition than solve a great mystery."

Videl rolled her eyes, and turned back to the kitchen.

Barden grinned at his father, but went back to his homework.  The faster he could get it done, the sooner he could spend time with his Dad.

Videl had just reached the kitchen door when an explosion rocked the house, the shock of it pushing her against the wall.

Gohan and Barden were on their feet in an instant, warily circling the kitchen door, from which smoke was drifting.

Videl grabbed Barden's shoulders and held him back as Gohan flung the door open and walked inside.  When no screams of pain or pleas for mercy were heard, the other two followed.

Videl groaned.  Her carefully concocted dinner was now spread across the kitchen.  Rice plastered the walls and windows in intricate designs, vegetables were splattered across the table, and what had once been strips of beef dangled from the light fixture on the ceiling.

The first demi-saiyan to exist in thousands of years turned and looked at her, holding the remnants of her pressure cooker in his hands.  "I think you let the pressure get a little too high, love."

Videl sighed.   "You distracted me!"  While she'd never been a gourmet chef, she always had been able to cook a decent meal.  But since Gohan had returned only part of her mind had been working; the rest of it was still focused on her very buff, very sexy husband.

Gohan flicked the pressure dial absently, and it broke off the lid to shoot through the kitchen window.

"Gohan!"  Videl snapped, wondering in despair how she would possibly feed them now.  "You could have put somebody's eye out with that!"

"Sorry."  Gohan's voice wasn't the least bit repentant.  "Guess I didn't know my own strength."

Barden reached out and swiped a bit of rice off the back of the door and put it in his mouth.  "It's still good, though, Mom."

Videl turned around in horror just in time to see Barden grab another handful of what had once been food off the door and put it in his mouth.  "Barden—don't do that!"  She snapped.  "Spit it out!"

Barden swallowed.  "But Dad's eating it!"

Videl swung around in time to see Gohan shovel some vegetables off the table into his mouth.  "Gohan!"

"It's still good, Videl," he commented.  "Besides, it's been so long since I've had any good food I'll eat just about anything."

Barden giggled, and Videl sighed.  "I think you've just proven that," she began briskly.  "But I don't have the cast-iron stomach of a Saiyan, and I refuse to make my dinner out of food that has been scraped off my kitchen walls!"  She untied her apron and dropped it on a chair.  "I don't have enough food in the house to make another dinner.  You nearly cleared out the pantries at lunch!"

Gohan and Barden looked as if they'd been told that their world was going to end in less than an hour.

Videl shrugged.  "I guess we'll just have to go out to eat," she continued, searching for her purse and house keys in the hallway.

Barden cheered.  "Can we go to the Pancake House?  And what about Mr. Shuu's sushi buffet?  It's always really good.  And there's that hamburger place down by Trunk's house too—we always get good cheeseburgers there, but Bra likes the pizza parlor down the street…"

Gohan looked on in shock as his son rattled off about ten different restaurants, telling his father about the good things to eat at each of them.  "And you haven't gotten kicked out of any of them," he questioned.

"Nah," Barden shook his head.  "We only eat a few things at each one.  If we go to several restaurants, we can get full without being kicked out of a really good restaurant.  Of course if Mom, Grandma or Bulma goes, they don't eat at all of them, but nobody's ever said anything to them about it.  Bra says it's because we order so much anyway, that it doesn't matter that the humans don't eat anything."

Gohan blinked as he processed what his son had said, tuning out the boy's prattle.  He was sure Barden wasn't this garrulous all the time, just trying to catch up with him.  "That's actually a good idea," he commented finally, cutting off Barden mid-sentence.  "Who thought of it?"

"Bra."  Barden explained.  "She got mad after Vegeta and Uncle Goten got us kicked out of a restaurant she really liked."

As Barden continued telling his father about the tantrum Bra had thrown, Videl appeared back in the kitchen, hair brushed neatly back and purse in hand.  "Aren't you two ready to go?"

Barden broke off and scampered up to his room to change out of his gi and into his city-clothes.  Gohan followed him, after giving Videl a quick kiss.

Twenty minutes later, Barden and Videl were sitting on the bench by the front door, waiting for Gohan to come downstairs.  After one last half-hearted attempt to tame Barden's spiky hair, Videl rose and peeked in the door of her bedroom.

Gohan stood before the closet in his boxers, his clothing piled neatly on the bed behind him.  Tail wrapped around his waist, he attempted to pull on a pair of pants, but his muscles were too big for them—the pants which had fit him so perfectly before were too small.

"Problems?"

He whirled, giving her a frantic look.  "None of this fits!"

Videl stepped into the room, taking note of how many different outfits he'd tried on.  "Are you sure?"

"I've tried on every pair of pants I have," he was disappointed.  "I didn't think I had gotten that much more muscular."

"You haven't looked in the mirror lately, have you?"  She retorted.  At his stricken look, she smiled.  "Don't worry—I still think you're sexy."

He grinned back, then flung the pair of pants into the pile of discarded clothing.  "And that was the last pair."

"What about your gis?"  Videl questioned, pulling open the drawers of his dresser.  "They'll probably still fit."

"I can't go walking around in Satan City in my gi, Videl.  I'd disgrace you."

"Disgrace me?"  Videl questioned.  "I was the girl who ran around in training gear until I married you!"  She grabbed a pair of cloth pants and a tunic and tossed it at him.  "Just wear those."

Gohan stared at her for a moment, but complied, pulling on the black pants and the green tunic reminiscent of his days as the Great Saiyaman.

Videl nodded at his appearance.  Although the clothes did little to hide his muscular body, he looked semi-normal, if you discounted the hair and the tail.  "That wasn't so bad, was it?  At least you didn't have to wear spandex," she teased.

Her husband blushed—some things never changed—and they headed back down the stairs, where a hungry Barden was waiting for them.  A few minutes later, three bright streaks in the sky headed towards Satan City.

******************

Please Review!


	4. One Large Misunderstanding

A/N: Well, everyone, I have good news and bad news. The good news is I wrote a chapter! The bad part is I'll be gone to the land-of-no-internet for two weeks, starting tomorrow. But don't worry--I'll have plenty of time to write...  
  
Again, if you want to be notified by email of an update, please leave your email addy in a review or email me directly at nadiarose3@hotmail.com  
  
Thanks go out to the lovely Maria Cline, without whose help, I'd be hopelessly lost....(and if you're looking for a good Gohan fic, go read her Strange Friends in Strange Places fic to tide you over 'till I get back)  
  
Again--this is a setup for humor in later chapters....  
  
Saiyasith--thanks! It's nice being told what you do is original...it eases up a lot of worries....  
  
Saturn-Hime--he just hasn't had a haircut in a very long time...  
  
Thanks b-cat, mystic pan, Android 71, otepoti, & Senshi Nadeshiko  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, nor its prequel or sequel.  
  
A Saiyan Homecoming  
  
Chapter 4: One Large Misunderstanding  
  
Several hours, six restaurants, and one maxed-out credit card later, Videl had finally fed her boys. Well, almost. They had one more restaurant to go, the Pancake Hut. Gohan had said he wanted pancakes, and Barden had agreed, insisting that he knew where the best pancake house in Satan City was. Videl was starting to wonder how often Barden ate out, given his knowledge of the city's best restaurants.  
  
But for the moment, she was happy to be in the presence of her family as they wandered through the streets of Satan city, drawing many a surprised stare from other pedestrians.  
  
She linked her arm through Gohan's, squeezing his arm in support as a young mother pulled her children as far away from them as possible.  
  
Gohan's expression was slightly strained. He was not a monster! He'd given his entire life to the rather insignificant little planet called Earth, and to have them reject him stung. He knew he didn't look like an average everyday human, but he wasn't! He was a half-human-half-saiyan hybrid, and proud of it. During his 15-year stint in the other dimensions with Shin he'd learned a lot more about both of the races he had come from, and been surprised to learn that the Saiyans hadn't always been bloodthirsty killers.  
  
He would no longer drown his Saiyan instincts with human naivety. He'd learned to balance them out long ago.  
  
Videl squeezed his arm and he glanced down at her, shifting his arm to wrap around her waist as they walked. Barden was on his other side, continuing to babble on about what had happened in his life while Gohan was gone, occasionally looking up at his father to make sure he was listening.  
  
Gohan smiled at him and continued on down the street, towards the little pancake house nestled in the midst of the shopping district. With Videl on one arm and Barden scampering along the other side, Gohan was just happy to be with his family again.  
  
Not too far away from where the Sons were making their way to dinner, another hybrid Saiyan was enjoying herself, much to the glee of the salesmen and women assisting her. Today was a day when they loved being paid by commission.  
  
Bra Briefs regarded her reflection in the mirror, then twirled so the long blue dress swirled around her ankles. She turned to one side and examined her image again, pinching the expensive cloth that somehow managed to be the exact same shade of her hair and eyes. A slight frown flickered across her face.  
  
The terribly ingratiating salesman held his breath.  
  
Bra looked up. "What do you think?"  
  
The salesman leapt to his feet. "It's a perfect match!" He exclaimed ecstatically, making the young woman want to cover her ears. "The color is perfect, the cut accentuates all the right curves…I think we have a winner here!"  
  
The rich heiress frowned at him. "Not you." She ignored his deflated look and turned to the woman sitting in the chair a few feet away. "What do you think?"  
  
Bulma Briefs cocked her head and studied her daughter's form closely. "He's right-the cut does wonderful things for you," she admitted after a moment. "And while I've never tired of the color blue, I do have to admit it looks good, despite being a bit monochrome. You look elegant."  
  
The salesman smiled, amazed beyond belief that the richest woman in the world was actually agreeing with him.  
  
Bra turned back to the paneled full-length mirror, and shuffled the skirt again. "It's a very nice dress," she admitted to herself calmly, putting dollar signs in the salesman's eyes. "But it's not quite what I want."  
  
The nameless salesperson sighed under his breath.  
  
"This just doesn't do it for me," Bra continued, rearranging the straps slightly. "This is more of a trip-to-the-opera-with-old-people dress, not a hot-date dress."  
  
One of their attendants stepped forward. "Perhaps if you would tell us more about what you're looking for, Miss Briefs, we can find something more suitable for your tastes."  
  
Bra closed her eyes for a minute. "Something shorter," she decided. "And not blue. Red maybe-or green. Something fun."  
  
The salespeople scrambled off to find something that matched her specifications, and Bra returned to the dressing room she was monopolizing to pull the gown off. By the time the saleswoman had taken it away, another one had appeared with several more dresses.  
  
Bra examined them calmly, then snatched a pretty purple halterneck from the pile and showed it to her mother. "Wouldn't this look cute on Pan?"  
  
Bulma looked up from her examination of a catalogue and smiled. "It would, dear, but I thought we were getting you a dress for your date, not shopping for family members."  
  
"We are, but Panny never dresses up anymore," Bra commented. "Her wardrobe is so last-season-and she has to go with Trunks to that social luncheon in three weeks. Dragging her out to get new clothes will be nearly impossible, and I can't let her give Capsule Corps a bad image." Capsule Corps head of Public Relations and its occasional Vice-President smirked at her mother. "Weren't you the one who made sure Dad and Trunks always had something suitable to wear?"  
  
Bulma lifted her hands in surrender.  
  
Bra checked the size of the dress and handed it to the saleswoman. "We'll take that one," she decided. "And the blue one I just had on, too. It might come in handy before the summer is over."  
  
"Yes Miss Briefs!" The saleswoman snatched the two dresses up and trotted off in the direction of counter, where Bulma's choices were already neatly folded and waiting to be delivered.  
  
Free of clinging store personnel, Bra turned back to the dresses, trying to find one she liked. After a moment, she pulled something from the pile and disappeared into the dressing room again.  
  
Bulma went back to her magazine, wondering how many more stores they would be able to hit before everything closed down for the night.  
  
A squeal of delight echoed through the room, and Bulma looked up in time to see Bra come out wearing a flirty little number in white, with brilliant red flowers twining up the sides. She strode right to the mirror and examined her reflection from all angles, before turning to give her mother a bright smile. "Carlos will love it!"  
  
Bulma readily agreed. Carlos was her daughter's latest fling, an upcoming baseball star with dark good looks. He'd charmed Bulma the instant she'd met him, but she had to work to keep him from running into Vegeta or Trunks. His type of flattery would only get him pushed through the closest wall with them.  
  
After their purchases had been encapsulated and pocketed, the two women left the shop, glancing at each other in camaraderie. "Now that we have the dress," Bra began.  
  
"It's time to accessorize," her mother finished, fun sparkling in her eyes. "So shall we start with shoes, or do you want to go with purses?"  
  
Bra frowned. "Shoes, I think. There's a really great place across the street from that Pancake house Barden likes. They have a lot of variety; we should be able to find everything we need there."  
  
Bulma linked her arm through Bra's, and they continued on their merry way, preparing to spend more of Trunk's hard-earned money. After all, if his wife wouldn't do it somebody had to, didn't they?  
  
Their attention was caught by a young voice bellowing Bra's name from across the street. Both Bulma and Bra turned to see a familiar spiky- haired boy jumping up and down across the street and waving like mad.  
  
Bra smiled and waved back. "Hi Barden!"  
  
Bulma waved too, looking around for whoever Barden was with. She was startled to see a hulk of a man with long calf-length hair lounging against a wall beside him. There was no way she could mistake that hair. A chill shot up her spine and she grabbed Bra's arm hard. "Radditz!"  
  
Bra glanced at her mother's pale face. "Who's Radditz?" She demanded immediately, wondering how this man could frighten her mother so.  
  
"He's a Saiyan," Bulma answered, her eyes frozen on Barden, who was rushing towards the curb. "The one who killed Goku all those years ago." She shook her head. "I wonder how he made it here." She let go of Bra and hunted for her cell phone. "I'm gonna call your father-he has listen to him."  
  
As soon as Bra realized the man across the street was a threat, she toned out her mother's voice, worried about Barden. While the boy was strong, he didn't have any experience to help him hold his own against the Saiyan. Was Radditz returning for vengeance on his family? How had he found Barden, and not Goten?  
  
All of her questions vanished when she saw the burly Saiyan grab Barden by the back of his shirt and yank him away from them. The Saiyan instincts that has fully developed with her fighting skills took over. In her mind, Barden was family; and she couldn't leave him alone with the monster that had killed his grandfather.  
  
She handed her purse to her mother and began to pick her way through the traffic.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Gohan, meanwhile, pulled his son back onto the curb before he ran out in front of a fast-moving semi. Where had Barden's common sense disappeared to? He sighed and dusted his son off. "You need to be careful. Saiyan blood or not, that thing still could have hurt you."  
  
Barden winced and dropped his head. "Sorry. I kinda just forgot."  
  
Gohan gave him a stern look. "That's not the type of thing to forget, kiddo."  
  
He started to lead Barden back towards the Pancake House where Videl was waiting for them. However, he was stopped by a fist that connected with his eye, sending his head snapping back.  
  
Whirling to face his attacker, he was met with another fist-in his jaw this time, followed by a foot to the back of his knee that sent him sprawling to the sidewalk face first.  
  
"Run Barden!" Bra ordered, slamming one knee into the big Saiyan's back to pin him to the ground, powered up as much as she could without ascending into Super-Saiyan. "I'll hold him up until Dad gets here."  
  
Barden stared at her in surprise. "Go!" Bra ordered. "I can handle him!" She grabbed a fistful of the massive man's hair and yanked his head back. "Thought you'd come back for another round, didn't you?" She sneered. "Well, I'm not letting you kill my friends!"  
  
Gohan grimaced. "What in Kami's name did I do to you?" He asked, wincing as she tightened her hold on his hair.  
  
"It's not what you did to me," his captor snarled, not realizing she was drawing a crowd. "But you killed that boy's Grandfather! I won't let you do the same to him!"  
  
"Huh?" Gohan finally realized who must have him pinned to the concrete. "Bra? Is that you?" He was stunned-the girl must have really undergone some intensive training to get that kind of power level.  
  
Unfortunately, Bulma picked the same time to scream at Barden to run to her, and Bra didn't hear him.  
  
Barden, deciding not to mess with the angry women despite his father's situation, decided to obey her and flew across the street to Bulma.  
  
Gohan groaned as Bra straddled him while once again tugging on his hair, and decided it was time to pry her off so she could see his face and realize who he was. He worked one of his arms free and managed to reach above him, intending to grab her arm and pull her off.  
  
Bra interpreted his action as an attempt at escape, and reacted by grabbing the first sensitive spot she could find, intending to inflict pain. Her father had always said that a Saiyan's one weakness was the sensitivity of their tail. That was one way to immobilize any Saiyan warrior. Her hand unerringly closed around Gohan's tail and she squeezed hard, trying to get the man to go limp. For good measure, she dug her perfectly manicured fingernails in. It was dirty fighting, she knew, but sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do.  
  
Unfortunately for her, her opponent didn't go limp.  
  
Gohan didn't feel anything but pain as Bra's hand tugged on his tail. Pain that eroded all the restraints and limitations he had been holding onto to keep from hurting her. When she stuck her fingernails in, he reacted in the only way he knew how.  
  
He bellowed in pain and stood, whipping the other half-saiyan on his back off what every seasoned warrior in the otherworlds knew as his Achilles' Heel.  
  
Bra clung to his tail, refusing to relinquish her hold. She found herself sitting on the ground clutching it in both hands, blood leaking over her fingers from where her sharp nails had pierced his skin.  
  
Gohan roared again and lashed out with a foot, catching the younger girl squarely in the ribs. With the strength he'd developed over the last 15 years fighting some of the most horrendous beings in the other dimensions. Beings that made creatures like Cell and Frieza look like mere babes in diapers.  
  
She went careening across the street and into the shoe-store opposite him.  
  
Chest heaving and hair flickering gold, he stood in the middle of a hushed crowd and examined the damage he'd just caused. She'd severed one of the building's support structures, sending the walls crashing down on top of her.  
  
In one motion, both Gohan and his son began to try to make it across the stree to start digging her out of the rubble.  
  
Gohan's path was stopped by a massive ki blast that blew up part of the street in front of him, which, thankfully, was clear of innocents. He threw his arms across his face and gathered a wide ki blast strong enough to incinerate the hunks of concrete that were flying past. When the glow his sheer energy had produced finally subsided, Gohan was able to see his opponent.  
  
Vegeta, the last of the pure-blooded Saiyans, floated less than a foot off the ground, lightning crackling around his form as he powered up to the first level above Super-saiyan. The cold blue eyes were inhumane as his fury reached peaks Gohan had thought the man incapable of. A bright ball of ki dangled from the man's extended hand as Bulma wailed about Bra's fate in the background.  
  
Gohan glanced at the smoke rising from the rubble. Bra's ki was still steady, although it was weak. She was still alive--if they could dig her out in time all it would take would be a few days in a regen tank to heal her. He turned back to the man hovering before him. "We can get her out in a few minutes."  
  
Vegeta's eyes narrowed, and Gohan sighed. He wasn't going to get out of this battle that easily. He shook himself and began to cross the street to help Barden, hoping Vegeta would realize who he was before his anger cost Bra her life.  
  
Without thinking, Gohan continued to cross the street, intending to aid his son in pulling the girl from the rubble.  
  
Unfortunately, Vegeta had other plans. No one, mortal, immortal, or of any power level so much as touched his daughter without reprisal. This Saiyan, whoever he was, would be no different.  
  
He loosed the ki blast from his fingers.  
  
The battle had begun.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
Please Review! 


	5. Battle, Part I

A/N:  After a long, tension filled wait, here is the next chapter of _A Saiyan Homecoming_ has been uploaded!  Sorry—I was on another vacation for three weeks—although this one was much more of a vacation instead of a trip to hell.

Thanks go out to Maria Cline, my wonderful beta!

This chapter is the first of three parts (I think—unless something else pops up).  I was going to try to put it all into one chapter, but it would be just too long and I wouldn't have the pleasure of reading all your very interesting reviews about leaving you hanging off the edge of a cliff.  ^-^.

On another note, I've started school again—a full 17 hours (most hard science and math), am tracking down a job on campus, and have 10 fanfics scattered around the net in various fandoms and places.  To help keep everything sorted out, and to give all you wonderful reviewers a chance to bug me more directly, I've started a group for my DBZ stuff.  Those on the group get a chance for some artistic input, choose which one of my plot bunnies I work on developing next, and some exclusives that I write and don't post here—things that don't make it into chapters but are still funny, and little side stories.  (I'd also love to get some fanart—but I can't draw….).    Here's the address:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nadialist/

I'll still continue the update list for a few more chapters—but am transferring it to another inbox (my yahoo), because my hotmail address is now reserved for school.  I'd love to be able to just run off the group in a few chapters, it would make my life simpler—so please join!

A group also makes things much easier on my inbox—I'm trying to clear out one.

DemonDancing:  *raises hands in apology* your chapter (well—at least the first third of it) is here!

Seventeen's stalker:  sorry it took me so long—but read the author's note!

Same for you, Tricia!

Amy—I love long hair too, but Gohan's hair has been causing him some…problems.  It might be safer for the poor guy if he were to shave his head to the point where he was bald!

Easy, Sami!  I've hurried as quickly as I could—I wrote half of this chapter last night!

Game Gal—I haven't decided on Gohan's haircut style yet—and as for Videl being pregnant…well…she's not too old, but old enough that it would be a bit of a shocker.

Kevin:  Thanks—and here's more!

Thank you again, Android 71!

vs2doc:  don't worry about the life of your favorite anime character—he's in no real danger—not in this fic—and at least not yet.  As for the ki sensing—Gohan has changed a lot…as for the fight and Pan & Trunks—just read on!

Otepoti—cool!  hey—as an afterthought—isn't your penname from Otherworld, by Tad Williams?  Hmmm…if it's not, though—it's close enough to make me think it is!

Naso:  I agree with you!  But I like my hunky Gohan with long hair—at least for the moment!

Ryoko-Onee—don't worry about it…Gohan is quite capable of handling himself.

Saturn-Hime—they don't, do they?  And in the next chapter it's about to get worse—a lot worse.

Saiyasith—thanks!  Gohan does need a haircut—but I'm not sure how to do it yet…and I'm not sure there'll be a Satan city left when I'm done!

Thanks Superkai!  (You too, Seventeen's stalker—for the second time), and you too diamondgirl!

On a final note, ye old disclaimer:  I don't own DBZ.

A Saiyan Homecoming

By Nadia Rose

Chapter 5:  Battle Pt 1:  Vegeta Signs His Fate

Trunks sighed and shut his laptop off, neatly sliding it back into the locking case he used to protect it while abroad.  There was no way anything short of a highly-concentrated blast from a Super-Saiyan would break it, and even that was questionable.  It was constructed from the same material the latest version of the gravity room was—and they hadn't been able to even scuff the surface of that yet.

All of Capsule Corps portable secrets were perfectly safe, which was why Trunks felt free to leave.  He'd been away from home for a good three weeks, and he needed a break from work.  He needed to vent all of his pent-up Saiyan energy, and there was only so much he could do in a hotel gym without raising too many eyebrows.

He needed a good meal, a good spar, and some time with his wife.

The purple-haired CEO rose and stretched like a cat before journeying to the room next door, which housed his chief financial/legal advisor.  He knocked on the door as he opened it, finding Bob Mann spread-eagled on the bed with an ice pack across his eyes.  "Headache?"

"Are they this bad every day?"  Bob moaned despairingly.  "That woman has a voice that could shatter glass."

"I thought it was more like fingernails on a chalkboard," Trunks agreed, keeping a straight face, then shrugged.  "At least I'm married; I think she took a liking to you."

Another wail was his only response.  "Must you remind me?"

Trunks smirked and dropped into a chair.  "Oh, come on Bob.  She's rich," he cajoled, "and smart…"

"And about as attractive as Hercule Satan in a dress."  Bob retorted sarcastically.

Trunks raised one purple eyebrow.  "I pray to Dende that's something we never see," he deadpanned.

Bob stared at him blankly, missing the obvious reference, and Trunks shrugged.  "At least it's only for a few days," he attempted to soothe the man's tense nerves.  "And then you can go back to Capsule Corps and forget this ever happened."

Trunks watched as the slightly neurotic assistant relaxed into the bed, relieved that Trunks wasn't going to strand him out here alone.  Of course, that was exactly what he was planning to do.

He stood and walked to the medicine cabinet, dropping a few aspirin beside the glass of water on the table.  "Why don't you swallow these, close your eyes, and just take it easy until the meeting tomorrow evening."  He managed to make his voice soothing and kept his face straight.  "I'm going to go up to my room, lock then door, and then head for home.  I'll be back tomorrow in time for the meeting, so there's nothing to panic about.  You'll be just fine here by yourself until I come back tomorrow afternoon.  Right?"

"Right boss," Bob echoed like a good mindless employee.  "I'll be just fine until you come back tomorrow afternoon."

Trunks suppressed another smirk; it worked every time.  "Good," he continued in his sickeningly sweet voice.  "I'll see you tomorrow then."  He began to edge for the door.  "Bye Bob."

"Bye Mr. Briefs," Bob murmured, still not realizing what had been said.  "I'll see you tomorrow."

As Trunks opened the door, however, a bellboy's cheerful face greeted him.  "Here you are, Mr. Briefs," he spouted.  "I have a message for you from Miss Champagne, and since you weren't in your room I was going to bring it down to Mr. Mann's room to see if he knew where you were…"

"Thanks for bringing it down," Trunks snatched the envelope off the tray the bellboy was carrying "In fact, any messages that come into the hotel for me can be delivered here to Mr. Mann.  I'm working on some technical plans in my room and don't want to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Briefs," the bellboy agreed.

Trunks quickly tipped him and shut the door.  When he looked up from it, his legal advisor was staring him straight in the eye.  "You're leaving me here," the man questioned, eyes wide.  "I can't stay here alone," he babbled, "You know how these people get, trying to find you at all hours of the night.  The last time I came on one of these so called business trips we came back from dinner to find a mob in the hallway!"

Trunks couldn't resist a smirk at the memory.

"That wouldn't have been so bad," Bob continued, now in full swing, "except it was a mob of obsessed women determined to catch your attention by throwing their underwear at you!"  The man crossed the room and planted one hand on the doorjamb, as if he could possibly stop Trunks from opening the door.  "And then—then there was that whole little incident in Greece where you shattered an entire _pillar_ at the Parthenon!  Thankfully it wasn't one of those supporting anything, but it didn't keep the officials from being damn close to a lynch mob; and you skipped out then, too—you and your sister both!"

The young demi-saiyan hadn't meant to break that pillar—he'd only been leaning against it—but then Bra had come up and tried to surprise him with a punch, except it hadn't been a surprise.  He'd ducked, and her fist had hit the pillar…and then gone right through it.

"But I think the worst was that little clique we met in Paris…filled with people who were convinced you were an alien!  And then there was that woman…who swore up and down for hours that not only were you an alien, but you were the purple-haired man who fought in the Cell Games!  What are you supposed to say to something like that?"

"You should have told them it's true," Trunks retorted.  "That would have shut them up and sent them off."

"No," Bob said firmly.  "Telling lies to the public is not something I do—that's your sister's department, and I sure as hell don't want to get on her bad side.  What I do is work with numbers—but every time I come out here to help you consult on one of these little projects we somehow manage to come across a group of society's rejects or rabid women, and you somehow mysteriously disappear, leaving me to deal with them—alone!"

Trunks shrugged.  "Can't I help it if I'm popular?"

If looks could kill, Trunks would have been standing before King Yemma at the moment.  

He laughed.  "This is a tiny little town—no crazed stalkers, no girl mobs, and I haven't broken anything.  Nothing's going to happen.  If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I'm in my room working on the schematics of a tele-chrono-dimensional transport; there's been some sort of electrical disconnection somewhere in the machine, and it's a matter of life and death for me to fix it.  That's technical enough to deter all but the most stout-hearted."

Bob repeated the explanation blankly.  "…What is that?"

Trunks smiled.  "I used a wire from Mom's time machine in one of my gadgets, and I have to replace it before she finds out and kills me."  He pulled the door open.  "I'll be back tomorrow morning; you'll be fine."

He continued down the hallway to his room, leaving his assistant standing numbly next to his own open door.  Just as Trunks door slammed shut, the man called out.  "Wait a minute!  Capsule Corps has a time machine?"

But Trunks was already gone.

* * * * * * *

Three-quarters of the way across the planet, his wife found herself dangling off the edge of a cliff by the fingertips of one hand.  She started to swing herself back onto the rocky ledge she'd fallen from, but a gust of wind caught her and she slid down the rock face another fifty yards before she wrapped her fingers around the trunk of a small tree protruding from the rock and stopped her descent once more.  As if that wasn't enough, some boulders she had dislodged on her way down were bouncing towards her.  With a grunt, she swung her feet to rest on the cliff wall and pushed off just in time to miss being plowed by a rock the size of a city bus as it slowly bounced down into the canyon.

She stood in the air and caught her breath, feet dangling beneath her as a number of smaller rocks slid down the side of the mountain.  A slightly evil thought crossed her mind and she ducked beneath an overhanging protrusion and squashed her ki.  Hovering silently, she only had to wait a few minutes before she saw her opponent come sailing past, searching for her.

"Pan?"  Ubuu called, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice.  "Pan?  Where are you?"

Using a tiny ki blast, she sent a loose rock several meters away from her clattering down the sheer rock face.  When Ubuu whirled to look at it, he turned his back to her, exactly what she had been hoping for.  She pounced, closing her fist and wrapping her arm around the much bigger man's neck, while the other hand grabbed one of his arms at the elbow.  "I've got you," she teased.

"Really?"  She could hear the laughter in his voice.  Before she could react, he had broken free of her grasp, grabbed one of her ankles and tossed her away from him.  She fell into lake below with all the grace of a dodo bird, sending up a geyser of icy water.

The demi-saiyan kicked her way towards the surface, flinging her full head of black hair back once she was able to breath again.  "I suppose I deserved that," she called to her companion, who had landed a few feet away from the edge of the water.  "This is freezing!"

Ubuu shrugged.  "Don't tease me."

Pan wrinkled her nose at him, and climbed out of the lake, shaking furiously.  Ubuu turned away courteously as her loose two-piece gi clung to her body in some rather embarrassing places.  A short ki blast later, she was dry, finger combing the tangles out of her hair.  "You can turn around now."

Ubuu spun around again, offering her a brilliant smile.  "We had a good spar, today, I think."

Pan nodded in agreement, frowning as the leather of her fingerless gloves cracked from the rapid drying process.  "Very good."  She agreed.  "I almost beat you."

Ubuu's smiled good-naturedly.  "If we keep sparring like this, you will soon enough."

Pan frowned, eyes flashing.  "You held back again, didn't you?"

Ubuu shrugged.  "No.  I stayed within the limitations we set.  You don't transform, I don't use my Buu attacks on you, and we both improve."

"There's something to be said about beating the crap out of each other with just your fists," Pan commented, shaking out the red cloth that encased her legs.  "When I used to spar with Nana I learned more in one day then I would from a week of training with my father."

Ubuu glanced at her, surprised.  "Mrs. Chi-Chi spars with you?"

"She used to, when I was younger.  She knows more different forms of martial arts than even Grandpa Goku, and taught me more about relying on my style instead of my strength."  Pan shrugged.  "Then I conned Daddy into teaching me, and got more into counting on my strength to pull me through, instead of my skill."  She sat down on one of the boulders, pulling her legs to her chest and pillowing her chin on her knees.  "I miss Daddy," she murmured forlornly.

Ubuu watched her worriedly; the girl he'd come to think of like a sister was slowly turning into a shell of herself over worry about her father.  He laid a hand on her shoulder and patted it awkwardly.  "I'm sure Professor Son will come home soon.  The Supreme Kai promised he wouldn't be gone for too long."

Pan leaned her cheek against his callused hand.  "It's not me I'm worried about—I'm a grown woman, and was when Daddy left.  It's Barden; he looks up to Daddy so much…and all little boys need their fathers around when they grow up."  She sighed, and Ubuu flinched inside at the sight of the crystalline tears welling in her dark eyes.  He hated it when Pan cried.  "The last time he spent the day with me he watched the video tape of Dad's lecture series I did; he told me he didn't remember what his voice sounded like anymore."

The dark-skinned man wasn't sure what to say to comfort her, he'd never known his father—he was the most evil being in the universe reincarnated, after all.  Fortunately for his social skills, a conglomeration of the planet's highest kis caught his attention.  Bra, one he always tried to listen for, was fighting someone, someone with a massive ki that he could almost recognize.  It felt strong—strong and ordered—well organized despite the massiveness that had to be a Saiyan with the ability to transform.  There was a familiar flavor—one that he couldn't recognize.

Then, as he listened carefully, Bra's ki lowered drastically; like she'd been injured.  The bright untrained blob that was Barden rushed towards her…and there was a darker ki rushing towards the area.  Vegeta.  Ubuu's eyes widened as he realized the Saiyan Prince was in super-saiyan—and prepared to fight.  Then the other ki level easily rose to match that of the Prince—and Ubuu was able to categorize it.  At the center of the ordered ki was a burnishing white ball of pure power that could only belong to one man.  Son Gohan.  Who was matching Vegeta's ki decibel to decibel—they were going to get into a fight in the middle of a horde of innocent humans.

Ubuu shot to his feet, pulling Pan up by the shoulder.  "Pan—we've got to get going.  Professor Son is back."

Pan's eyebrows shot up.  "How—how do you know?  I haven't heard anything—haven't felt his ki at all."

Ubuu was already in the air, and Pan was close on his heels.  "His ki is different," Ubuu told her.  "It's much stronger than it was before…and it feels….restless."  He rolled over in the air so he could see her face.  "I wasn't following very closely—but…I think he just attacked Bra."

Pan's eyebrows nearly reached her hairline.  "Daddy wouldn't attack Bra, would he," she wondered aloud.

"I wouldn't think so," Ubuu said, "but that's not important right now.  He and Vegeta are preparing to do battle—right in the middle of town."

Pan glanced at him and nodded.  She closed her eyes and cried out, pushing her ki past the limits of a normal Saiyan.  When she opened them again, they were the hard pupil-less green of a Super-Saiyan, her now stiff golden hair fanning out in a perfect wave behind her.  "Let's go."

* * * * * *

A well-traversed part of Satan city was currently the sight of a modern version of a shootout.  While the two combatants warily circled each other in the air, the streets below were a mass of people rushing to get off the street.  Videl was down on the street below, bellowing instructions at the top of her lungs, trying to get innocents out of the danger zone as quickly as possible.  Barden was digging frantically though the rubble of the shoe-store under Bulma's direction, leaving the two Saiyans free to bash each other into bloody pulps.

Said Saiyans were too busy trying to intimidate each other to start fighting.  Gohan was staring at Vegeta, eyes nearly red with anger.  Bra had hurt him, and his control was too far gone to recognize where he was or what he was doing.  All he knew was that if Vegeta wanted a fight, he would be more than happy to oblige.  Vegeta was staring down the bigger Saiyan, trying to spot any weaknesses in the man's stance—he had casually deflected a blast that could have easily taken out Frieza.

This man was strong—but he would pay for touching Bra.  Somehow, someway, he would make him regret what he'd done.

With a low growl, Vegeta closed the distance between them and attacked.

* * * * * *

Videl swore fluently as she heard the shock waves the colliding fists created.  They were really fighting—and not in the ki-blast way she expected them to, but with fists and feet.  It had to be some sort of Saiyan honor system, but she didn't want to think about that at the moment.  She couldn't—there were too many innocent lives in danger.  People were running into buildings where they were only putting themselves into more danger.  If a loose ki blast or limb were to hit one of the buildings, it would collapse.

Moving on instinct, Videl entered the nearest building and began screaming orders once more.

* * * * *

Vegeta slammed his elbow into the back of the man before him with maniacal glee, intensified when the man grunted and spit a small amount of blood onto the ground.  The mysterious Saiyan, whoever he was, put up a good fight.  He swerved away when his opponent growled and punched outwards, only to find an iron-hard foot up against his ribs.   This time it was his turn to wince as his ribs all along one side cracked.

Before the pain could set in he was moving again, darting in and out with heavy blows designed to test the other's strengths and weaknesses.  Each one of his punches was met and countered by muscular limbs enhanced by a power-up, but not by the most sacred of Saiyan transformations.  It wasn't right—no Saiyan should be able to withstand a Super-Saiyan without being able to match that level!

Before he could ponder the mysterious man any further, a fist connected with his gut, but he refused to double over and countered with a punch and kick combination of his own that sent the other Saiyan flying backwards into the side of the Satan City mall.

Shrieks and screams could be heard wafting from the large hole in the wall.  Vegeta smirked.  Pathetic weakling humans.

A cloud of dust and breaking bricks announced his rival's emergence from the mall in a new location, trailing a cloud of clothing that he'd flown through.  He ripped off the brightly-colored shirts worn by country-western dancers in disgust and charged Vegeta, knocking the Prince down into the street below, creating a nice Vegeta-sized crater below.

With a growl, Gohan surged down and grabbed the Prince by the front of his spandex gi and tossed him into the air.  He wasn't finished fighting yet.

* * * * 

Videl moaned in disbelief when she saw the small fleet of police cars arrive.  In a matter of seconds the police had the street closed off so nobody could get away—guns pointed at the two Saiyans in the air.  At the end of the street opposite her, she saw what had to be the current police chief and his head negotiator—she'd worked with them both before.

The man lifted a bullhorn to his lips and began to speak.  "Stop!  You're both under arrest!  If you refuse to come peacefully we'll shoot."

Both Saiyans stopped and stared at the man down their noses as if he were a small bug that needed to be trodded on.  Videl swore and began to run as Vegeta lifted his hand, fingers pointed as if it were a gun.

Things were about to get worse.

She took about four steps through the crowd before she remembered she could fly, and with a concentrated jump, shot into the air and sped towards the police chief and his negotiator.  "GET DOWN!"  She bellowed as loudly as she could, pushing herself to her limits.  "GET DOWN! GET DOWN!"

The two, not realizing what she was screaming, waved cheerfully at her, thinking she was coming to help them.  Her ki sensing skills weren't so out of practice that she couldn't feel Vegeta gathering his energy in preparation for blasting the two annoyances into the next dimension—and to know that she could not deflect it by herself, even if she could get there in time.  But in true Son fashion, she put her strength to the test and went faster.

Vegeta had released his blast now—she was going to make it in time—but just barely.  She abruptly stopped in the air, directing all available ki into a shield—her worst technique.  Even after years of practice, she had never quite managed the quality of ki-shield one needed when sparring with Saiyans—or even abnormally strong humans.  But with a small prayer to kami, Videl was determined to try.

If Dende had heard her plea, he had a most unusual way of responding, for from across the street, a tiny voice had started to scream.  "Ka…me…ha…me…HA!"

Right before it reached the edge of her shield, Vegeta's blast was met and held by a blue-white ball of light that had originated from her young son.  Videl couldn't resist a twinge of respect for the boy, bravely countering a fully-powered blast from a Super-Saiyan.  As she watched in shock, the little boy flew in front of her, pouring all of his ki into countering the other man's blast.  "LEAVE MY MOM ALONE VEGETA," he roared.

A millimeter at a time, the blue white blaze forced the golden ki back—Videl was wondering where the heck Barden's power was coming from—but then it was gone, leaving Barden with barely enough energy to hover in the air.

A scream tore from Videl's throat—Vegeta was going to kill Barden if she didn't do something!  With the instincts of a mother, she firmed up her shields and hurtled forward, intending to throw herself between her son and the blaze that would kill him, praying that he would get out of the way before her body was dissipated into nothing.  She grabbed Barden by the shoulders, intending to push him away, but he stood firm, his hands still extended in an attack position, trying frantically to summon enough ki to form a blast.

Adrenaline gave Videl enough leverage to yank Barden aside and insert herself between his body and Vegeta's attack.  She braced up, silently chanting that she loved her family, prepared to journey to the afterlife—again.

But then a hand planted itself between her shoulder blades and pushed.

Unable to stop herself, she toppled over, pulling the exhausted Barden down with her.  She latched onto his waist and let herself tumble towards the crowd huddled below, which dispersed as far as they could.  After a second another pair of hands caught her by the back of her shirt, helping her right herself.  She was startled to see the pale blonde hair and icy blue eyes of 18 before her.

"That was very stupid," she said in her emotionless voice, "but very brave."  She plucked Barden from Videl's limp grasp and laid him over her shoulder, then grabbed Videl's wrist and yanked them to the ground, towards the two stunned policemen whose lives Videl had been trying to save.

Videl followed their gazes to see a golden-haired version of her brother in law floating idly in the place where she had been only a second ago, deflecting the murderous blast with one of his own.

Barden looked up from his position on 18s shoulder and waved.  "Thank you Uncle," he called weakly.

Goten glanced over at them and flashed a victory sign.  "You guys ok?"

18 nodded.  "They're fine," she called.  "But if you don't want to visit your brother in the prison for the next few years you'd better get up there."

Goten was in the air in a flash, heading towards the two combatants—one who had only one look written in his eyes and across his face.  Gohan was past angry—he radiated murderous intent.  Videl had _never_ seen him so utterly…Saiyan.

"It's the Gold Fighter!"  A nameless, genderless voice from the crowd shouted in a conveniently quiet pause.  "The Gold Fighter can save us!"

Videl shuddered.  It was going to take more than one Super-Saiyan to stop from killing Vegeta—the man had signed his own death warrant.  Gohan was going to kill him—or be killed trying.

With a hoarse cry, Gohan powered up to the second-level of Super-saiyan—something Videl had only seen him do once since she'd known him.

A hush fell over the crowd again.

"They're all Gold Fighters!"  The same nameless, genderless voice despaired.  "We're all going to die!"

As the crowd began to erupt into panic, Videl kept her eyes on the fighters, stunned by Gohan's display.  While she knew a powered up Saiyan was a beautiful thing—this, this was simply amazing.  This was her husband in a primal mode she had never experienced before, and it fascinated her.

With almost maniacal glee, Gohan reached out and wrapped both of his hands around Vegeta's throat and began to squeeze.

"Oniichan!"  Goten's voice carried clearly.  "Don't kill him!"

At Videl's shoulder, 18 chuckled.  "It's going to take more than just words to stop him this time, Goten," she commented to herself.  With a flick of her wrist, Barden had been removed from her shoulder and deposited him in Videl's arms.  "Here.  I'd better go help him.  Krillin will be here in a minute," the android continued, taking to the air.  She hovered for a moment in front of Videl.  "Oh—do something about that," she pointed to the crowd that was now starting to get out of control, trying to get out.  "They're in my line of fire."  And with that she was gone—heading to help Goten pry Gohan's fingers off Vegeta.

Videl stared numbly at the crowd—then at the Police Chief and his negotiator, who were still staring at the scene before them, open-mouthed.  Moving quickly, she walked to where the nearest officers were crouched behind their car doors and shoved an exhausted Barden into the empty seat.  He tried to get up—tried to help, but she pushed him down again.  "No.  Rest, Barden; you've done more than enough.  I can handle it from here."  He nodded weakly and closed his eyes—trembling in his exhaustion.

Videl straightened up and winced as she heard the sound of a body hitting a building.  "I hope," she muttered to herself.

Turning, she found herself face to face with a hundred police officers, all awaiting orders.  The Chief wasn't any good to them now.  Videl swiped the bullhorn out of the officer's hand and clicked it on.  She had work to do.

* * *

End Pt 1

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Please review!


	6. Battle, Part II

A/N:  I had no idea I could turn this chapter out in roughly two days—but I did.  We're one step closer to the end of the battle!  Only one more chapter!  Anyways…I'm not sure if you like what I'm trying to do or not…but I'm trying! Thanks go to Maria Cline!

Again:  the yahoo discussion group is http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/nadialist/

Android 71:  If you want to read what I do of the prequel before I finish this and start on it full time, join the yahoo group!  If not, you'll have to wait a while!

Saiyasith:  Thank you!

Shelly, evilgirl28:  Here's more!

Jetforce:  I'm not ready for happily ever after—not yet anyway!

Game Gal:  Videl's learned a long time ago that when Gohan gets truly angry, she can't really stop him…she's too busy trying to save innocent lives anyway.  Vegeta deserves what he's going to get for almost killing Videl and Barden!

DemonDancing:  Thank you!

Tarkin:  Here we go!

Ye old disclaimer:  I don't own DB/Z/GT.  There—I admitted it.

A Saiyan Homecoming

Chapter 6:  Battle, Pt 2:  Saiyan Superheroes

Downtown Satan City hadn't seen so much action in years—not since Videl and the Great Saiyaman had teamed up to nearly demolish the city's crime rate.  That, however, was like a lighter when compared to the bonfire that was taking place that evening.  Smoke was flying, escaping from buildings, which were shuddering and groaning with the effort of standing beneath the forces of battle.  People were running past, screaming and crying, trying to get away from the crazy men fighting in the middle of the street—and the police were staring blankly, unsure of what to do.

In the melee, there were only a few people keeping calm heads.  One of these was a reporter—and not just a common, everyday news anchor.  The blonde documentary journalist known as Nomad and her sturdy cameramen had fought the panicked crowds, crossed the flimsy police line, and were now as close to the actual battle scene as they could possibly get.

Nomad grabbed a rather battered looking microphone, held it to her mouth, and nodded.  "This is Nomad, from National Geographic in downtown Satan City.  I'm here live, where it appears some sort of fight is taking place—causing all manner of mayhem and destruction."  The windows in the building behind her shattered, and she ducked, but continued to speak.  "From the talk that's been on the airs, it seems that a single pair of men is responsible for these events."  She points to one of the police officers running past her in full riot gear.  "The police have told me that it apparently started when Bra Briefs, of Capsule Corps, attacked a man in the street and was thrown through the shoe store across the street.  Her father, Vegeta Briefs, has taken over the fight from there."

She cut off the microphone and glared at her cameraman.  "Is that all right?  I don't do this news anchor crap…"

"It's fine—just keep talking!"  He grunted in reply, trying to affix his camera on the bright blurs of light hovering in the middle of the street.  "This will get us a Nadi!"

Nomad ducked behind an open squad-car door just in time to avoid being hit by a flying hunk of sidewalk.  "It will if we're still alive!"  As soon as she had determined that the coast was clear, she'd straightened up and began to look around—continuing to talk all the while.  

Squinting her eyes—she recognized the figure planted firmly on top of one of the squad cars, bullhorn in hand as she shouted instructions at the police.  "Look," she pushed the camera lens towards the woman.  "It's Videl Satan!"

"Is it?"  The cameraman questioned—zooming in on the woman's face.  "It is!"

Nomad grinned.  "It looks like one of the heroes of Satan City is back on the job—Videl Satan—the local superhero around here a few decades ago, is obviously in charge of the police down here on the ground," she spoke loudly into the microphone.  "With any luck, her demi-partner, the Great Saiyaman, should be here soon.  If anyone can stop this fight, it would be him!"

A quiet little laugh surprised her, and she whirled to see a small little boy curled up in the passenger seat of the squad car, looking like all his energy had been sucked out of him.  "What's so funny, kid?"

He shook his head.  "The Great Saiyaman won't stop that fight—he can't.  He's already a part of it!"

Nomad drew her eyebrows together.  "How do you know that?  Who are you?  Do you know who the Great Saiyaman is?"

The boy nodded.  "Of course I do," he replied weakly.  "He's my father."

Nomad's eyes brightened.  She's seen footage of the 25th World Tournament—enough to know that this little boy resembled the man who'd been revealed beneath the Great Saiyaman's mask enough that they could be related.  She grabbed the small digital voice recorder she kept attached to the side of the camera and knelt down next to him with what she hoped was a friendly smile.  "So tell me—what's your name?"

* * * * * * *

The two Nameks were casually lounging in one of the numerous rooms of the lookout, sipping the waters that Mr. Popo had just set out for them.  Dende took a long swallow of his, then looked up at his recently-returned friend.  "So you have no idea how you were brought back?"

Piccolo shook his head.  "No."  Long green fingers twitched in annoyance on the table top.  "One moment I was helping Pikkon put Radditz and the others back into their section of Hell—the next, I was here."

"Where?"  The current Guardian of the Earth asked, curiously.  "The Lookout?  If you've been back that long, we would have known if you were here."

"No."  He closed his eyes.  "Where I died."

"Oh."  Dende echoed blankly.  "I have no clue how you were brought back."  He shrugged.  "Planetary Kamis aren't very high up in the godly chain of command—after all, we're about a dime a dozen to Yemma and the others.  We're not as hard to replace as say…a Supreme Kai."

Piccolo smirked a bit at the mention of his protégé's eventual title, and Dende knew there was truly nothing wrong with his friend.  "I can, however, use some connections of mine and see if somebody out there can't dig something up for us."

Piccolo nodded, relieved that his younger friend was willing to help him solve the mystery.

Dende rose from the table and sighed, apparently staring out into space.  "I wonder who I could summon," he murmured calmly.  "Who would do this in the manner that we want it to…"

Mr. Popo was watching him nervously.

Dende snapped his fingers, an acquired habit he had picked up from those who inhabited the planet he protected.  "She would do quite well," he exclaimed, then murmured a name into the wind.

Mr. Popo flinched.  "Anyone but her, Dende-sama.  Anyone but her!"  He shuddered.  "She frightens me!"

Piccolo raised one of his eye ridges in curiosity.  Dende smiled.  "Our friend was a monarch here on earth—one who got herself a job in the Afterlife.  I keep her updated on her family, and she runs errands for me in return."

A low, sweet sound filled the air, and a spirit materialized beside Piccolo—a human woman with long flame-colored hair that floated about her on an unseen breeze.  She wore a sword at her golden belt, and fiery winged sandals were strapped to her feet.

Dende smiled welcomingly at her.  "Ah—your Highness…how nice to see you again.  Won't you sit down?"

The woman had golden eyes only a few shades darker than her hair—which she turned to stare unflinchingly at him.  "You know as well as I," the sharp tone of her voice and her profile were hauntingly familiar to Piccolo, "that there is no rest for the wicked, Dende."

"But still," he replied easily, "it is only courteous to offer."

"Yes," she replied, still staring at Piccolo.  "You have not long been in this world, Namek," she addressed him directly.  "You think you do not belong in this dimension," she continued, gliding over to him, sandals leaving a tiny trail of light behind her.  "It disturbs you; and things tend to go rather badly when you are disturbed."

Mister Popo whimpered as her sandals caught the tablecloth on the table sitting between Dende and Piccolo on fire.

The woman shot him a furious glance.  "Quiet—or I will see to it that you become reacquainted with your lamp."  She turned back to him.  "You want me to find out why you got here, Piccolo, son of Piccolo Damaio."  She cocked her head for a moment.  "You have aided my family countless times—solving your riddle is the least I can do."  She nodded to Dende.  "I will see what can be discovered, if you can keep the Earth intact that long."  She threw her head back, lifting her chin to the skies; and was gone, leaving the eerie image of a flaming bird behind her.

Dende chuckled as Popo began to frantically stamp on the now burning tablecloth.  "Octavia is a unique woman, a Queen here on Earth," he told Piccolo, "and her daughter is someone you are well acquainted with."

Dende didn't even flinch as Popo carried the smoking remains of the tablecloth away.  "If anyone can find out what happened to you, she can."

Piccolo opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a series of screams and un-relenting pleas for Kami's aid.  Dende pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Piccolo's taunting smirk.  "I see Vegeta is still up to his tricks," Piccolo commented wryly as he too, headed for the edge of the Lookout to offer his aid.

What he saw there nearly sent him tumbling over the edge.

* * * * * * 

Krillin floated in the air, not sure of where he was needed.  Down the street there was a massive glowing ball that could only be Super-Saiyans fighting.  They were moving too fast for him to see, but he could sense their kis.  The first two he knew to be Goten and Vegeta, but the third took him a moment to place.  His eyebrows nearly crawled to his hairline.  "Gohan's back," he exclaimed happily to a bird perched on a nearby flagpole.

The bird cocked its head and stared at him.

The ex-monk shook his head.  "And to think the first thing he does once he gets back is get into a brawl with Vegeta!"

The bird blinked.

Krillin ran a hand through his graying hair.  There was no way he could get into the fight proper—each one involved was far too powerful for him to even have a chance—but there had to be something he could do to help!

The obnoxious feedback of a bullhorn grated on his ears, and he followed the sound to see Videl shouting orders to the various police officers and national guard members huddled around the battle zone.

Deciding he'd better talk with the boss first, he glided over to where he was, taking note of the woman who was talking to a drastically weakened Barden in one of the deserted squad cars.  He landed behind Videl, waiting for her to get done screaming into the bullhorn.  "Looks like you've had an interesting evening," he commented.

Videl rolled her almost violet eyes.  "Interesting isn't the word for what this has been."

Krillin chuckled and patted her shoulder.  "They'll sort themselves out eventually—they always do."

"I only hope they can before they destroy the city," she growled, irritated.  "I don't want to see the bill for the damage this time!"

Krillin had to agree with her—most of the buildings within sight had been damaged in some way—some significantly.  "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Videl pursed her lips.  "Getting into the melee is suicide—but I know Bulma could use some help.  Bra got knocked into that building there," she pointed at the rubble of the shoe store.  "Barden was digging her out—but then he had to help me," her voice chilled, "and he doesn't have any energy left right now."

"Yes, ma'am."  Krillin tossed her a salute.  "There's some woman talking to him—I think she's some journalist from the Nature channel—Marr would know who she was."

Videl tossed him a surprised look.  "A journalist?  I'd better get over there."  And before Krillin could say another word, she was gone, leaping lightly from squad car to squad car, heading toward the weak ki of her son.

Krillin couldn't resist a grin.  If that woman really was a journalist, she was about to get more than she'd dealt for.  He jumped down from the car and began to head towards the head of blue hair that could only belong to Bulma.

"Hey, Bulma!"  He greeted cheerfully, trying to relieve the fear written across her still-beautiful face.  "Videl said you had a little problem over here, and I thought I'd help out."  He quickly located Bra's ki beneath the rubble, moved to the closest spot, and began to shift through the debris, hoping to get closer to the girl beneath it all.

* * * * * *

Trunks Briefs was normally a very hard man to surprise.  After all, his nickname as a child had been Demon Spawn, due to all of the pranks he and his closest friend had gotten into.  It wasn't often anything could startle him—he was too used to seeing the unexpected.

But what he'd found when he traced his father's ki was most definitely unexepected.

He had to get in there and help—but he was very easy to recognize, and his mother would skin him alive if his talents were publicly revealed.  He stood on the roof of a nearby hotel and shrugged his jacket off—followed by the eternally annoying tie.  Now for his hair—hiding the long purple locks would be his hardest challenge.  If he'd kept his hair short like he had the rest of his life, he would've been able to hide it under a cap, but no, Pan had wanted it long…and she'd come as close to begging as he'd ever seen her.

Trunks' hair had been long for almost 6 months now.

He glanced around, hunting for something he could hide under.  Cloth snapping in the wind caught his attention; there was a blue and white Capsule Corps banner dangling off the side of the mall.  Moving quickly, he yanked it off the pole and tied it around his head.  One of his sleeves quickly became a mask over his eyes, and Trunks was ready.

If they couldn't see his face, they couldn't identify him.

He jumped neatly off the building and dropped to the street before him, towards the figure of his mother-in-law.

Videl was redefining Nomad's version of resistance.  She had only been talking to the little boy for a few moments before the other woman arrived, looking like an avenging angel.  Instead of talking to the boy, Nomad had suddenly found all of her attention taken by a very annoyed, very tense woman.  In the argument that ensued, neither noticed when the sound circuits on Nomad's equipment short-circuited, thanks to the timely intervention of a very busy Namek on the lookout.

"Look!"  Nomad finally snapped at the other woman.  "All we were doing was talking—I wasn't going to hurt him or anything!  He says he's the Great Saiyaman's son!"

She was startled when Videl's eyes narrowed into mere slits, and she whirled to the boy.  She thought she was talking quietly—but Nomad had very good hearing.  "Barden!  I thought we talked about you not telling anyone who your father is!"

"Sorry, Mom…I wasn't going to say anything else—I swear!"

Nomad's eyes widened to the size of saucers.  This little boy was the son of Satan Videl and the Great Saiyaman!  What a revelation!  Nomad suddenly found herself wondering if the schoolteacher Satan had married knew that his son wasn't his.

Videl sighed and knocked her head against the interior of the car door in frustration.  "It will be ok Barden.  Just rest and get your energy back, ok?  I don't want to give your father the chance to get even more angry at Vegeta."

Trunks, who had been hovering silently above them, gurgled in shock.  "That's Gohan out there?"

Videl's head snapped up to stare at him.  "Trun—what are you doing here?"

"Following the ki."  He didn't flinch as a stray ki blast—the first that 18 and Goten hadn't been able to deflect harmless whizzed by his ear.  Almost absently, he deflected it with a strong blast of his own into a section of street free of onlookers.

Nomad's mouth dropped open.  "Who are you?  How did you do that?  Are you related to the Great Saiyaman too?"

"Err," Trunks thought frantically for a moment.  "Not exactly."  He winced at the thought of what he was going to do, and opened his big mouth.  "I come from the same planet he does, but a different class."

Another reporter, who had been brave enough to follow Nomad, shouted.  "What's the name of the planet, and why are you here on Earth?"

Trunks shot a frantic glance at Videl, who simply lifted an eyebrow and stared at him.  He was on his own this time.

"The name of the planet is sacred to those who live there," he bluffed.  "It was destroyed by a meteor shower many of your Earth Years ago."  He winced and slowly dropped lower into his role.  "My father the Prince, and the Great Saiyaman's father, were some of the only survivors.  Rumors had it that some of my people had settled here, so I was sent to find out."

"Did you find any?"

Trunks winced.  How was he to answer that question?  Any answer he could think of, someone would be in big trouble—namely him.  "The last Great Saiyaman or I saw any trace of them was at the Cell Games, but they disappeared not long after."

The two reporters fell silent, trying to figure out what to ask next.

It was the Police Chief who spoke up.  "Hey—you haven't seen the Great Saiyaman lately, have you?  We could sure use his help."

"No!"  Trunks shot back.  "I don't know where he is."

Videl snorted.

Trunks noticed that he had now gathered a crowd of brave onlookers, and swore softly.  Damn it—he didn't want to do this…but it looked like Videl was having a hard enough time.  "I can help you, though!"  He boomed in a false voice, striking what he hoped was a heroic pose.

All of the girls within the vicinity immediately began to swoon.  So did Nomad's cameraman.

Videl put her hands on her knees and began to laugh so hard Barden worried she might tip over.

Trunks glared at her.

Up in the air with both of his hands wrapped around one of his brother's arms, trying to keep the bigger man from reaching Vegeta again, Goten snorted.  "Why'd you have to go and do that, huh?"  He called down to his friend.  "Now they've all gotta…" he paused as Gohan's fist found his gut, "be carried out of here!"

"What did I do?"  Trunks demanded.

"You're posing like a supermodel," Videl gasped out between chuckles.  "I don't think I've ever seen…"

Trunks glared at her.  "At least its better than the Great Saiyateam's" he shot back.  "If I posed like them, half of the city would still be laughing."

"Some of us are still laughing anyway, dear," a familiar voice commented mockingly, cutting off Videl's retort.  Pan, already in the Super-Saiyan form, was floating just above the heads of the crowd, Ubuu at her elbow.  "Maybe I should see if I can't get you a modeling gig."

Trunk's face widened in shock.  "I'm not a model!"

His wife crossed her arms over her chest and examined him with a very Vegetaesque glare.  "You couldn't prove it by me, although your wardrobe needs some help."

Trunks glanced despairingly at Ubuu.  "Ubuu?"

The dark-skinned man shook his head.  "A wise man does not take sides," he said clearly, before shooting off into the middle of the ball of Saiyans.

"Wuss," Trunks muttered under his breath.  

He had now been left alone with a bunch of women who were slowly starting to gain consciousness, and his wife—and he didn't like the look she was giving him at all.  She stared at him for a moment, then came forward to stand in front of him, still examining.  "You look like a walking Capsule Corps advertisement," she said, grinning wickedly.  "I think I might give all your fangirls down there something to look at."

Before he could react, she'd grabbed his shirt and tugged, the expensive white cloth coming away in her hand, leaving the front of his shirt hanging open to reveal his undershirt.  "There," she cooed sweetly, giving Trunks chills.  "You look much better now."  

He was so going to pay for this later.

Her green eyes flickered upwards to the battle taking place, where her father had managed to pry his brother and 18 off to get his hands around Vegeta's neck again.  "When you're done playing smarming the mob," she snapped, "you might want to give us a hand in saving your father's life up there—ok?"

And she zoomed off to add another set of fists and feet to the fray, leaving Trunks alone with the crowd, who was now watching him with glazed expressions.

"Who was she?"  A reporter yelled.

"Are you single?"

"Is your father really up there?"

Trunks glanced up at Pan, absently admiring the way her golden hair swirled around her as she joined Ubuu in prying one of Gohan's hands free of his father's neck.  "That's my wife—the Goldpan Girl!"

All of the women in the crowd—and a few of the men—became immediately disappointed.

Nomad, however, wasn't phased.  "Who are you?"

Trunks was at a complete loss.  What should he call himself?  He glanced around, searching for inspiration, and found it in a cowboy hat that had just drifted from the gaping hole in the side of the Satan City Mall.  He snagged it out of the air, crammed it onto his head, and struck another pose.

"I am…the Lone Saiyan!"

Videl didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  How had Trunks possibly come up with such foolish identities?  And how could things have possibly gotten any worse than they were before?

Unfortunately for Videl, Kami was far too busy to help her out much—she was as good as on her own.

* * * * * * *


	7. Battle, Part III

A/N:  Sorry this has taken so long, but I've been really busy, really stressed, and depression is slowly getting the better of me.  About the time I start to feel better, something else happens and I just get depressed again.  This chapter didn't quite work the way I wanted it to, but it's a chapter.  I'm going to focus on my Vegeta/Chichi story for a while now—you all have gotten 2—or maybe even 3—chapters since I've updated the other story now, and I need to be fair.

Once again…the address for the group (which gets excepts from my infamous hard-copy notebook) is:

http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/nadialist

Thank you:  Emotionless Shadow, Videllover666, Rarity 88, Hurakotay, Game Gal, Demondancing, Saiyasith, Hanamaru825, otepoti and Jet force. (sorry if I've left anyone out)

Disclaimer:  I don't own DBZ.

A Saiyan Homecoming

Chapter 7:  Battle, Pt 3:  Of Tranquilizer Guns and Body Casts

What had once been the brick walls of Salazar's Shoe Store was now being hefted about as if the bricks were mere legos as two men frantically tried to get to the girl beneath the mess.  Krillin hissed as another small piece of glass imbedded itself in his hand, but he ignored it and tossed the chunk of concrete over in a corner.  Beside him, Yamcha was levering up an even larger piece of wall with a steel beam he had confiscated from a construction project a few blocks away.  The man had shown up only a few minutes ago—and just in time.  Bra's ki was fading fast—they had to get to her.

Bulma stood at the edge of the sidewalk, covered in dust and clutching Barden to her.  The little boy had managed to sneak away from the zoo at the squad cars after Trunks had arrived, intent on helping Krillin, but the man had not allowed it.  Instead he had gone to Bulma, offering what condolences he could to the distraught genius.  Thankfully Yamcha had shown up—or else Krillin would never be able to get to Bra in time.  Even now, with both men working full-speed, Barden could only just feel his friend.

"What I don't understand," Bulma rasped in a hoarse voice, "is why she didn't just go through the building.  I've seen Saiyans thrown straight through mountains without a scratch—why some brick and glass would hurt her doesn't make sense."

Barden looked up at her, ignoring Yamcha's muffled swears as he stubbed his foot on a protruding iron spike.  "But they were expecting it.  Bra wasn't."  He patted her hands in comfort.  "She'll be ok.  Saiyans are tough."

Bulma managed to give the boy a quick hug.  "Yes, they are," she agreed.  "That was a very brave thing you did earlier—getting between Vegeta's blast and your Mom.  It could have killed you."

Barden shrugged.  "It would have killed her, if I didn't do something," he murmured, watching as Krillin and Yamcha worked together to shift a massive pile of stuff at once.  "I would have been sad if she died."

Bulma glanced down at the boy for a moment.  Like his Uncle and Grandfather, Barden often appeared the innocent naïve bumpkin—but she knew he had a mind sharper than a steel trap beneath the spiky hair.  "I think we all would, Barden.  Your father would be very proud of you if he were here."

The boy's blue eyes narrowed.  "What do you mean, Bulma?  Dad is here."

"Your Dad is back?"  Bulma felt the first stirrings of hope.  "Is he at your house?"  She fumbled for her cellular phone.  "Why don't you call him and have him come help us out."

Barden stared at her like she was insane.  "But Bulma-san, he's already here!"  At her uncomprehending look he continued.  "Bra attacked him in the street!"

Bulma felt sick as she realized what had happened.  "You mean…that wasn't Radditz?"

Barden frowned.  "That's what Grandma called him when she first saw him, too."

"It's ok, Bulma," Krillin assured hastily from his work in the rubble.  "Without being able to sense ki, you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.  They look…a…lot…alike!"  He grunted.

Bulma wiped the dust of her brow with a shaking hand.  She had sicced Vegeta on Gohan?  And then Vegeta had almost killed Gohan's family?  They weren't going to stop until one of them was either dead or unconscious.  "Oh sweet Kami," she moaned.  "I'm so sorry, Dende!"

Barden watched calmly as Goten went flying into the same mall that his father had earlier, igniting a new chorus of screams amid the shattering glass and bricks.  "I think he might want more than an apology this time, Bulma."

Bulma was saved from having to make a reply by Yamcha's shout.  "We've got her!"

The blue haired woman whirled and began to scramble across the rubble to where the two men were standing next to a blood-covered lump nestled in the bricks.  Barden, following her, was just barely able to make out the blue hair, silvered by dust, part of it tangled in a small pile of red platform sandals.

Bulma leaned over her daughter and let out a shriek that had Barden plugging his ears.  Before either of the men could stop her, she was kneeling next to her daughter, trying to peer into her eyes.  "Bra?  Bra honey, can you hear me?"

The oldest of the galaxy's four female demi-saiyans didn't even groan.

Bulma, although obviously very worried, didn't let the lack of response faze her.  Instead she carefully combed the blue hair away from the girl's face, and began taking stock of her injuries.  They all winced when Bulma's fingers brushed across a stake that had pierced her daughter's shoulder.  Bra, while still unconscious, shuddered and moaned.  The action caused the wound to begin bleeding again, a pool of scarlet rapidly spreading across the girl and the rubble around her.

Bulma paled and ripped off her scarf, intending to try and stop the bleeding with pressure, but there was no way she could without either removing or twisting the spike, which would only make things worse.

Not even looking up as she continued to examine her daughter, she glanced at them.  "We need to get her to Capsule Corps ASAP."  She covered a particularly nasty head wound in Bra's scalp with the scarf and pressed down.  "She's losing too much blood."

Barden, who still had Bulma's cell phone, quickly pressed the button that would  connect him to Doctor Brief's private lab as Yamcha and Krillin, under Bulma's direction, carefully cut the girl away from the rubble she was still entangled in.  On the fourth ring the good Doctor picked up, sounding somewhat annoyed at being disturbed.  "What?"

"Doctor Briefs.  This is Son Barden," the boy explained quickly, wanting to look away from the scene before him, but unable to.  Yamcha had gently lifted the young Saiyan Princess from the ground, and Barden could see glass protruding from her back, stained scarlet with blood.  "There's been an accident.  Bulma's going to need to use the operating theatre—and a regen tank set for Bra."

Doctor Briefs was silent for a long moment.  "They will be ready by the time you get here."

Barden cut the connection and jumped across the pile of rubble.  There was a bench there that, if he could pull the seat of it off, they could use as a stretcher.  But something else caught his eye.  It had probably once been part of a stockroom shelf—but now the long sheet of metal had landed haphazardly on top of a car.  Barden grabbed it and carried it back to the others.

In a few seconds they had Bra situated as best they could, using strips of curtains to secure her to the smooth metal.  Bulma was sitting next to her head, still pressing down on the head wound.  At Yamcha's gesture, Barden sat down next to her feet.  He was still too drained to fly, let alone keep up with the more experienced warriors.

Yamcha and Krillin each grabbed an end and blasted off in the direction of Capsule Corps.  Barden clung to the slick metal and stared at the bloodied ankles next to his knees, praying to Dende that Bra would be all right.

* * * * * * *

The actual battle that was taking place in the skies above downtown Satan city had come to a standstill.  Not by choice:  Vegeta and Gohan both still lusted after beating the other into an unrecognizable pulp, but the masses had finally prevailed.  Trunks, better known as the Lone Saiyan, had one of his father's arms pinned behind his back while 18 was slowly taking great pleasure in wringing the life out of the other one.  Vegeta, snarling, was straining against them, but Trunks was powered up just as far as he could get, and 18's occasional foot to the side of his head pretty much kept him contained.

Pan, Ubuu and Goten were having a much harder time with Gohan.  Goten and Ubuu each had one of Gohan's arms and were hanging on for dear life.  Pan was on her father's back—legs wrapped firmly around his chest, and her arms thrown across his neck.  By necessity, she had a fistful of hair clenched tightly in each hand.  She was trying to talk some sense into her normally sensible father, but was having as much of an effect as a bucket of water against a forest fire.

Physically restrained from attack, the two Saiyans were limited to sparring verbally.  Fortunately for the bystanders, they had chosen to scream their insults at each other in Saiyago, leaving most of the small crowd blissfully ignorant of what was being said.

Unfortunately, three of those trying to stop the battle could understand each filthy, slanderous word that rent the air.  And in true Saiyan fashion, they were responding to the family insults that were being thrown back and forth.  When Vegeta insulted Barden's intelligence with a degrading phrase, Pan had had enough.

She relinquished her hold on her father and went after the stubborn Saiyan Prince herself, screaming back at him with a voice that could rival her infamous Grandmother's.  Without her holding him back, Gohan was able to easily break free from the grips of his brother and Ubuu.  When he charged at Vegeta, Trunks and 18 relinquished their hold on Vegeta, leaving the man free to defend himself.

The battle was back on—only this time Vegeta had two opponents.

* * * * * *

On the ground, Videl's life was about to get a lot more complicated.  She had finally managed to orchestrate the movements of police and National Guard—getting everyone within a five-block radius evacuated, but things were about to get a lot more difficult.

The police choppers had arrived; as had the SWAT team.  The Police Chief, having regained some control of his senses, was giving orders just as quickly as Videl was.  Before she had realized what was going on, he had snipers scattered all around the block—guns trained on the mass of people floating in the middle of the street.

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have bothered Videl in the slightest.  She knew that all of the participants up there were pretty much bulletproof—but still, the thought of someone actually shooting at her friends and family unnerved her.  Looking at the speed they were darting, she decided that none of the snipers would be able to hit them anyway.

But the police chief wasn't ready to use projectile firearms yet.  He wanted to end this with as little bloodshed as possible.  So he fell back upon riot control practices that he had not practiced in a long time.  There was no way a fire truck could possibly get close enough to them, with the ruined street, to use a fire hose—but the Chief had read about a method once used to subdue rioting college students, and he was eager to try it.

Up in one of the police choppers, a custom-designed Capsule Corps snow blower was being connected to a very large can of the strongest pepper spray at his disposal.  When the all-clear signal was given, the Chief watched and waited…and when the setup seemed right, gave the order to spray at will.

* * * * *

Ubuu plowed into 18 when he was forcibly removed from Gohan's arm.  The muscular man offered her an apologetic smile, only to wince as the momentum sent them both slamming into Trunks, who was shouting soothing words at everyone involved.

The demi-saiyan managed to get the three of them stopped, but not before they had been pushed back a small distance from the heat of the fight.  While busy pushing the two younger men off of her, 18 noticed something that she had been selectively ignoring for the past few minutes.

She was well aware of the police's activities on the ground; after all, she had been trained for situations like this back when she had still been part of the Red Ribbon Army.  Or rather—when she was one of the Red Ribbon Army's favored weapons of mass-destruction.  The SWAT team didn't worry her—but something in the helicopter hovering perilously close to the fighters did.  That wasn't a gun they were preparing…

With a slightly resigned sigh, she focused her eyes onto whatever it was that was in that chopper, looking at it in several different ways that only an android could accomplish on her own.  Once she had found the right magnification she immediately latched onto Ubuu and Trunks.  "No."  She ordered tersely, ducking into the hollow between two buildings.  "Don't go out—not until the chopper leaves."

"Why?"  Ubuu questioned tersely, stemming the blood flow from a scratch on his arm.

"They have mace," 18 stated calmly, running a hand through her still unruffled hair. 

Before she could stop him, Trunks had yanked out of her grip and phased to where the others were fighting.  Vegeta and Gohan were a lost cause—but he might be able to save Goten and Pan some pain.  "Goten!"  He bellowed.  "Pan!  We've got to get out of here!"

Disregarding the danger that he was putting his body in, he jumped next to his mate and grabbed her forcibly by the arms.  "Pan," he bellowed in her ears.  "Pan!  Quit!  He's not worth it!  Let's go."  

She growled at him and lunged at Vegeta again, still intent on extracting vengeance.  "Let me _go!_"

Trunks grimaced and tightened his grip on her arms, intending to haul her physically away from the battle.  Just as he overpowered her, however, a fist connected to his jaw with such force that he didn't feel anything at all—although he knew he had heard bones shatter.  Gohan stood above him, eyes blazing.  "Keep your hands off my daughter, you purple-haired superhero wannabe," he growled.  Apparently he was not yet so far gone that his protective father radar had quit working.

Trunks felt Pan's smooth arm slide away from his fingers as he tumbled backwards.

Pan's fury was turned upon her father now.  "DAD!"  She roared angrily.  "You knocked out my mate!"  She drew her fist back, intending to foolishly ram it into whatever part of her father she could reach, but the sight of her lover in pain stopped her.  Instead she settled for flicking her now confused father a patented death-glare and went to Trunks.

Vegeta took advantage of Gohan's distraction to land a horrific uppercut.  Goten let out a yelp of surprise and tried to pry them apart again.

Pan ignored them and rushed towards Trunks, who had righted himself, one hand hovering over one side of his face.  She took it and pulled it away.  "Let me see," she ordered, resisting the urge to flinch when she saw what her father had done to her mate's beautiful face.  "I'm pretty sure it's broken."

Trunks gave her a painful sarcastic glare.

"Sorry!"  She sounded exasperated, then softened when she realized how much pain he was in.  "I'm sorry, baby, but I don't think I can kiss it better."

Trunks' eyes softened and he reached out to swipe a strand of that alluring blonde hair back from her face.  The cool green eyes could make him forget everything, including the pain radiating from his face, the battle going on in the street, and, unfortunately, the chopper preparing to rain the worst possible thing down upon them all.

Goten, however, managed to look up from where he had both of the other combatants by the hair, jerking Vegeta back just as the man lunged as his brother.  "C'mon, you two," he started, half-exasperated, half-amused.  "I could use a little…" he trailed off as the chopper moved into position.  "Hey…what are they doing over there…"

Her Uncle's shout had jerked Pan out of her reverie, and, acting on instinct alone, grabbed her husband and pressed his face to her chest, turning her back to the chopper while closing her eyes tightly, mimicking the actions of her mother less than an hour before.

The officers manning the souped-up snow blower flipped the switch and smiled in glee as the machine began pumping the pepper spray into the air.  This ought to slow those maniacs down.

Unfortunately for all those involved, especially Videl and Vegeta, the mace only did two things to the Saiyans.  The first thing it did was rob them of their sight, and the second was that the stinging sensation was just enough to infuriate them even more.

The battle continued with such massive intensity that even Videl was forced to fear for her safety, but thanks to the interventions of Dende and a form of his predecessor, no innocents would lose their lives in the hectic minutes that would follow until the Saiyans could fight no more.

* * * *

Orange Star General Hospital was in a state of barely controlled chaos.  They had been flooded with injured from the events by the mall.  So far only a handful of people were in critical condition, but they came in such massive numbers that the staff was having a hard time keeping up with them.  By this point they'd filled up every bed and gurney in the ER, and were now treating people out in the lobby, in chairs, and even standing in the hallways.

They pretty much thought they had the chaos organized when the paramedics burst in with several gurneys, followed by a very dirty, disheveled, and most importantly, a very _irate _Videl Satan.

She marched straight up to the reception desk, where a lone nurse was waiting desperately for the water to finish cycling through the coffee pot.  All she wanted was a nice cup of tea to settle her nerves…all of the patient's jabber about aliens set on destroying the earth was disturbing her.

The poor nurse's hopes were dashed when a pair of slightly bloody hands slammed down on the desk, snapping her last nerve.  Videl removed her ever-present badge from her back pocket and flashed it at her, making the woman give her a deer-caught-in-headlights-look.  "Videl Satan.  I have five priority prisoners that need to be treated immediately.  They need to be kept together, because they are all in my custody, and I make decisions for all of their treatments."

"But," the nurse stuttered, "we're almost full.  We don't have five rooms next to each other!"

Videl glared at her, making the woman shrink back into her seat.  She wasn't getting paid enough for this.  "I suggest you find room.  I know you can."  She paused, pulling a scrap of paper out of her pocket.  "Do Doctor Courage and Doctor Wise still work here?"

"Yes," the nurse replied shakily, "but they're not on shift right now."

Videl picked up the phone and handed it to her.  "Call them and say you've just admitted a few Saiyans."  She turned her head as a violently swearing man was carried in on a stretcher.  "And make sure you send the strongest nurses you have."

The nurse shivered slightly under the woman's glare and grabbed the phone, summoning the closest available nurse from down the hall.

Videl nodded and went back to her little group, which was spilling blood and sweat all over the already dirty hospital floors.  Gohan and Goten sat on one stretcher, supporting each other warily.  Gohan was absolutely covered in cuts and nursing both of his hands, while Goten sported a black eye and limped when he actually walked.  Videl didn't like the way he was swaying slightly—she worried that the demi-saiyan might have actually hit his head a little too hard.  Pan and Trunks shared another gurney—Trunks had obviously broken his jaw, and Pan was refusing to leave his side.  Aside from a cut along one shoulder, Pan was basically fine.  All of them, of course, had agitated eyes thanks to the pepper spray that had been released.

The heroine of Satan city wasn't sure if she wanted to throttle the Police chief or thank him.  All the pepper spray had done was work them into an even higher frenzy, but they had quickly fought themselves ought much more quickly due to their rage.  The battle had ended when Gohan had finally hammered a broken Vegeta into the street below.

After a quick call to Capsule Corps, Videl had allowed to brave paramedics to go and pry Vegeta out of his hole while she had collected the others to take to the hospital.  She hadn't even bothered talking to her mate—she'd merely grabbed the exhausted demi-Saiyan by the hair and hauled him to the ambulance.

Bulma was in no state to work on them; both she and her father were still working on Bra.  Krillin had said that there was only one senzu left, and it would be given to Bra once they had removed all the foreign objects from the wounds.  He'd promised to come along with a case of the only anasthetic Bulma had ever found to properly work on Saiyans:  tranquilizer formulated for Gorillas.

Until he got there, Videl was stuck trying to keep the staff safe from the antics of Vegeta.  The stubborn Saiyan had regained consciousness in the ambulance on the way back, and it had taken both 18 and Videl to keep him from sending the paramedics into the next dimension.  The man was still furious about the paramedic's "audacity," so 18 was staying with him in the most secluded place Videl could find—the roof.  The doctors weren't going near him unless he was completely unconscious.

Three rooms were quickly cleared out on the top floor of the hospital, much to the relief of Videl's temper and the hospital staff's anxieties.  She had just collapsed into a chair when Krillin appeared, laden with a small metal box, which he handed to her with mock solemnity.  "Your anesthesia, Mrs. Son."

Videl opened the box and her eyes widened almost imperceptibly.  "A Tranquilizer gun?"

Krillin shrugged.  "Bulma says she didn't have enough in the gaseous phase to knock them out long enough.  One dart is supposed to have enough stuff on it to knock out a Super-Saiyan for four hours."

Videl nodded.  "Vegeta gets it first, before somebody gets hurt."

Krillin slid a tranquilizer dart into the chamber of the gun, and Videl wondered absently how Krillin knew how to do that, but decided she didn't want to know right now.  He gave her a little smirk and held it out to her.  "Do you want to do the honors?"

She returned his smirk with an evil one of her own, totally scaring the security guards nearby.  "It would be my pleasure."  Taking the pistol, she stalked off towards the roof.

Krillin chuckled to himself and followed.  This was something he wanted to see.

* * * * *

While things out in the corridor had settled down, things in the rooms had not.  There was an argument going on in one of them, an argument in which only one of the participants could speak.  The nurses were trying to prepare Trunks for the doctor, but the man was being less than cooperative.

"Look," the nurse, a sturdy fourty-something snapped, "I don't care if you're the President of Capsule Corps himself, you have to take the bandana off!"

Trunks gave her a very practiced glare.

She lifted an eyebrow.  "You're gonna have to do better than that, sonny boy.  I keep a baseball bat in the nursing station for the likes of you.  Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way."

Trunks cast a despairing glance at his wife, who had allowed the nurse to change her into a hospital gown.  Still in her transformed state, she stared blankly at the walls, not really seeing anything.  She, didn't however, miss his thoughts.  "You're the one who got yourself into this mess, Mister Lone Saiyan.  You can just deal with the consequences."

Trunks would have sighed, if his face hadn't hurt so much.  He'd thoroughly annoyed her with the super-hero routine, but he hadn't had much choice in the matter.  By chance, he remembered seeing a pad of paper and a pencil on the table next to his bedside, which he snatched up and began to scrawl words upon.

The nurse came over and read them over his shoulder.  "I want to be…you have horrible handwriting you know…treated at the Capsule Corps hospital."  A long pause.  "Western Capitol is far too many hours away, Mister Lone Saiyan.  You'll just have to deal with the treatment you get here."  She snorted.  "How're you gonna get there?"

_I can fly,_ Trunks scribbled across the pad.

The nurse was silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to beat that one down into the floor with his other protests.  Luckily for her, Pan, aka the Goldpan Girl, was prepared.  "If you leave me here in this hospital, _Mister Lone Saiyan," _her voice was giving Trunks flashbacks to some of Videl and Chichi's more evil moments,_ "_not even Dende will be able to help you get back into my bed."

Trunks whimpered softly.  She didn't really mean that, did she?

The nurse quelled a smile.  "You the poor unfortunate soul who's unlucky enough to be his boyfriend?"

"Worse," Pan replied, absently tugging at her still-golden hair as she tried to get comfortable on the pillows.  "I'm his wife."  She paused for a moment, then smirked, which sent a chill down Trunk's spine.  What was it with Son women and evil streaks?  "At least for a little while," she continued.  "Until my father gets his hands on him.  Then I'll probably be a widow."

Trunks paled.  Gohan was back…and well, he was probably just as protective of Pan as he had been when he left.  Except now he had enough power to pound even Vegeta into the ground.  As soon as they were all out of here, he was going to die—Gohan was going to kill him.  He and Pan hadn't even been remotely interested in each when they left and well, now they were married.  Maybe he ought to just let the nurses find out who he was—being mobbed by the press would be a lot less painful than being pounded by Gohan.  At least, though, Gohan could only kill him once—without the dragonballs to wish him back, his fun could only last so long, unless, of course, Gohan chose to draw it out as long as possible

Pan nodded to the general direction of the nurse as Trunks turned whiter than a ghost.  "Now would be a good time to do whatever it is you have to do—he's too distracted with his impending doom"

The nurse smirked and grabbed her scalpel, leaning over the almost frantic superhero.  Before Trunks could react, the rather bloody remains of his Capsule Corps banner and his grody face-mask, one of his shirt-sleeves in a former life, dropped to the bed's pristine white sheets.  Once he realized what had happened, his eyes flew open to land upon the astonished nurse.  "When I said you weren't getting out of here even if you were the President of Capsule Corps," she murmured blankly, "I didn't expect to be taken at my word!"

Trunks wished he could moan, curse, swear, or even have tried to withstand the pain of transforming with a broken jaw before she had gotten his disguise off.  In less than 24 hours, even hell was going to be more appealing than taking a step outside of this hospital room.

"You're Trunks Briefs," the nurse murmured.

Trunks attempted to smile, but it came out more like a wince, and put a finger to his lips to ask for her silence.  Given his luck, there had to be a reporter floating around here somewhere.

Pan giggled to herself, making Trunks send her an aggravated glare.  She was enjoying this!  Of course, her anonymity was just as thin as his was—the nurse would make the connection soon enough.

But before Trunk's devious mind could think of a way to smooth the situation over, the door swung open, revealing his very tired, very exhausted, and still very irritated mother-in-law.  She saw what was going on and an evil smile twisted across her lips.  "Even the Great Saiyaman escaped detection longer than you could," she teased.  "He lasted a whole month-and-a-half before I found him out."

She turned her gaze to the still stunned nurse.  "How badly has he been injured?"

The Nurse shrugged.  "I know he has a broken jaw, but he won't let me get close enough to examine him further."

Videl's eyebrows lowered in a familiar way.  Trunks was in for it now.  She spun around to stare at him.  "Why won't you let the nurse look at you?"

Pan sighed, and continued with her job as Voicer-of-Trunks'-Thoughts.  "He was afraid she'd discover his real identity."

Videl, instead of teasing Trunks like he thought she was, shook her head and shrugged.  "Fair enough."  She glanced at the needle in the nurse's hand.  "And here I was thinking a might Saiyan was afraid of something as weak as a hospital."

Trunks glared at her.  Pan translated.  "My  not-so-gentlemanly mate would like to remind you that your own husband is afraid of hospitals."

Videl shrugged.  "I know.  His father instilled a fear of needles in him, and listening to Goku scream like a two-year-old will traumatize anyone."  She cocked her head, again glancing at the syringe the nurse had.  "I didn't know you'd picked up Goku's phobia of needles, too."

Trunks' reply was a few choice words that made Pan angry.  She snarled something at him in Saiyago, and Trunks blushed.  He knew he had grown up with the planet's two most foul-mouthed parents, but he had no idea that Pan would use words like _that!_  Those were almost worthy of some of the insults his parents threw around.

Videl, meanwhile, had crossed her arms over her ribcage and was waiting somewhat impatiently.  "Care to translate?"  She asked her daughter.

"No," Pan replied.  "I don't think it's appropriate to say in any company, let alone a hospital."

The woman shrugged.  "I can imagine—but I don't want to know right now."

She crossed the room to stand next to Trunk's bed, looking down at him with the steely glint that said he had better not cross her, unless under circumstances of impending planetary doom.  And even then, it would be a close call.  "Look, Trunks, I'm not going to dance around the issues here.  We're all in deep shit."

Both Trunks and Pan snorted.

Videl continued.  "Not only have you managed to nearly destroy a city block, but you allowed yourselves to be caught doing so.  The city will probably prosecute, and the police want to arrest you.  I can only hold them off for so long until my boss comes down to talk to me personally—and then I'll probably be removed from your case."

She rubbed her forehead.  "That's ok, because I've already called a lawyer friend of mine, who is coming to help.  But right now, you're all beat up.  Bra is still in the operating theatre at CC, and her injuries are severe enough that they couldn't be handled here, and Bulma won't leave her side to start up the other tanks."

Pan and Trunks both became worried.  How badly had Bra been hurt?

"Gohan and Goten are in the next room being treated, whining like typical Sons about being in the hospital.  Yamcha and Krillin are practically treating them themselves because the nurses are too afraid to approach them.  Pan can't see, and the doctors still haven't decided what to do with Vegeta yet."  She glared at Trunks again.  "Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way."

Trunks didn't dare give her a questioning gaze.

"The easy way is you let the nurse examine you, fix you up, and rest so you can start healing and be released sooner.  I'm sure that Bulma will have the regen tanks up and running by the time you're released, so it would only be for a little while."

Pan decided to see exactly how evil her mom could be—after all, it was Trunk's fault she was here in this idiotic hospital trying to stay transformed so she couldn't be recognized, unable to see anything more than a few inches away from her eyes.  "What's the hard way?"

Videl's thought for a moment, but a shout from Gohan in the next room sent a smirk across her face.  "I go and get him.  I'm sure he'll be most happy to accommodate when I ask him to help me knock out the man who married his daughter without his knowledge."

Trunks paled rapidly.

Pan grinned.  "He says the easy way."

Videl nodded to the nurse, who stepped forward, syringe at ready.  "Now I promise this won't hurt a bit," she began, but stopped when Videl put her hand out.

"What is that?  Anaesthetic?"

"Yeah.  We're gonna knock him out before we fix him up."

Videl shook her head.  "That's never going to work."  She exited the room and came back a moment later, dropping a dart into a handgun.  "Here," she murmured to the nurse.  "Let's use this stuff instead."

Trunks didn't even have time to wince before the dart was imbedded in his arms and he was lost in a dream about two Pans—one of whom had angel wings and a halo, while the other had a forked tail—and horns.

Videl smiled at Pan's rather baffled expression and wandered back out into the hallway, where 18 was still stationed in front of the room Vegeta was in, given a large berth by all of the security officers.  This was probably due to the fact that 18 had threatened them to within an inch of their lives, but it was probably better for their safety in the long run.  She looked amused—or at least that's what Videl thought the slight glint to her eyes was.

She approached the taller woman and handed her the tranquilizer gun.  "Trunks is out for a while, so I'm not going to need it."

"Mmm."  18 acknowledged, a smile dancing in her eyes.  "They've finally decided how to treat Vegeta."

"Oh?"  Videl quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes," 18 continued solemnly.  "They've decided to put him in a body cast."  She paused for good measure.  "The only thing is, they've used up all of the white plaster they have."

Videl had a sinking feeling she knew where this was going.  "What color is it?"

A tiny smile broke across the android's stoic face.  "Tie-dyed."

Oh yes…somewhere up in the heavens there was a God whom had a very sadistic sense of humor, who was getting a very good laugh out of all of this.

Videl silently vowed to herself that one day she would find out who he/she/it was and tell Vegeta—at least that way she could be the one watching in glee for once while someone else was tortured.

Up in the next-dimension a certain Kai snickered to himself, but decided to leave the situation alone.  At least until morning, that is.

* * * * * * *


	8. Interlude: A Day in the Life of Son Mar...

A/N:  Sorry all—in the midst of Evil! Midterms and Darth Writer's Block has struck!  Just a little interlude—hope you like it!(sorry it's so long)

Thanks to Otepoti, Android 71, Saiyasith, Lisse (love the pic!) taekwon-4, Emotionless Shadow, and edgar bynoe.

Frozenflower:  Wow!  Thanks!

Jakk:  There aren't any dragonballs.  Goku took them away—I haven't twisted the GT bit around that much.  If they're lucky, a Kai in a fit of pity might help them out—but that's a big if.

Next chapter:  Vegeta and a Tie-dyed body cast!

Disclaimer:  I don't own DBZ.

A Day in the Life of Son Marron

5:30 a.m.:  Alarm goes off.

5:31 a.m.:  Crawl out from beneath Goten.  Wonder how we ended up like _that_.

5:33 a.m:  Ouch!  Stepped on something in hallway.  Find latest action figures of the Lone Saiyan and the Goldpan Girl next to older ones of the Great Saiyateam.

5:34 a.m.:  Blast idols of family members into next dimension.  Wonder if King Yemma will hold it against me.

5:35 a.m.:  Decide not to worry about it.  Goten can take him.

5:37 a.m.:  Trip on ball, _fly _down stairs.

5:38 a.m.:  Narrowly miss creating new Marron-sized door between front hall and the den.  Decide that the next toy I find on the floor will find its way into the blender.

5:39 a.m.:  Slip on inflatable duck.

5:40 a.m.:  Am going to burn every toy in the house.

5:41 a.m.:  Activate cooking droids.

5:42 a.m.:  Start the coffee—can't live without it.

5:45 a.m.:  Am startled out of wits to find Uncle Juunana asleep on the couch in the living room.

5:46 a.m.:  Wake Uncle.  Realize from his hangover he was too sloshed to remember his way home.

5:47 a.m.:  Wonder how Uncle remembered to find his way here.

5:47 a.m.:  Uncle has no answer.

5:49 a.m.:  Reintroducing Uncle to the marvels of high tide.

5:50 a.m.:  Hope the dolphins eat him.

5:52 a.m.:  Shower.

5:55 a.m.:  Am joined by Goten.  Day just got better.

6:00 a.m.:  Juugo wakes up.  Damn.

6:01 a.m.:  Goten leaves to take care of him.

6:02 a.m.:  Turn hot water off completely.  Need a cold shower now.

6:10 a.m.:  Bathroom door opens.  Decide to give Goten a little show.

6:11 a.m.:  Screams echo through neighborhood.  Not Goten.

6:12 a.m.:  Decide not to explain what I was doing to twins.  Let them be innocent a little while longer.

6:13 a.m.:  Notice twins found Goten's grading pens last night.  Decided to play connect the dots—on each other.

6:15 a.m.:  Trying to scrub Sharpie pen off of Monda while keeping Damia in the shower.  Am thankful that I'm still limber.

6:16 a.m.:  Sharpie pen isn't coming off.  Make note to talk to Goten about leaving his things where the girls can get to them.

6:17 a.m.:  Damia escapes.

6:18 a.m.:  Monda is too slippery to hold onto.

6:19 a.m.:  Damn.  Goten has gone back to bed—doesn't hear my call for help.

6:20 a.m.:  Make it to the hallway with bathrobe to see two naked behinds halfway down the hallway.  Have to smile—they're such cute rear ends.

6:21 a.m.:  Goten appears at the end of hallway, Juugo asleep against his chest.  Yell at him to catch the girls.

6:22 a.m.:  Girls evade him in a smooth coordinated move they could only have learned from my mother.

6:23 a.m.:  Goten catches me.

6:27 a.m.:  Escape from Goten.  Loudly threaten starvation if twins don't show their faces.

6:29 a.m.:  Find twins in kitchen.  Should have known to check the food first.

6:30 a.m.:  Notice refrigerator is without its door.  Again.

6:31 a.m.:  Calm.  It's just a refrigerator.

6:32 a.m.:  Tell girls that they can't eat until they get dressed.

6:33 a.m.:  Kitchen has a new open-air window.

6:34 a.m.:  Can't decide to scream or cry.

6:36 a.m.:  Settle for doing both.

6:38 a.m.:  Goten is so cute when he's worried!

6:39 a.m.:  He is very sorry his daughters destroyed the fridge.  Kami, those eyes….

6:42 a.m.:  Have to remind myself that kids are in the room.

6:43 a.m.:  Twins aren't in the room.

6:45 a.m.:  Twins aren't in the house.

6:49 a.m.:  Uncle has some uses.  Found twins doing dolphin imitations and decided to return them to their human pod.

6:50 a.m.:  Uncle is forgiven with a kiss on the cheek.  Twins are forgiven with a good wallop.

6:51 a.m.:  Goten offers to get girls dressed while I finish shower.  I could kiss him, but won't.  We do have company.

6:57 a.m.:  Finally finish my shower.

7:00 a.m.:  Find Juugo asleep on our bed, fenced in by pillows.

7:01 a.m.:  Babies are so cute!  Especially my own….

7:03 a.m.:  Giggles announce the arrival of Goten and the girls.  Am reminded that my sweet little Juugo will grow into a holy terror, too.

7:05 a.m.:  Pillow Fight.

7:10 a.m.:  Pillows break.  Bedroom now covered in feathers.

7:11 a.m.:  Try to get dressed.

7:12 a.m.:  Damia suggests I wear bright orange bodysuit with green minidress.

7:13 a.m.:  In a house with three small children, there is no such thing as privacy.

7:14 a.m.:  Monda insists that it should be the purple minidress.

7:15 a.m.:  Fight breaks out.

7:16 a.m.:  Goten breaks it up before anything breaks.

7:20 a.m.:  Finally dressed.

7:22 a.m.:  Chime signals breakfast is ready.

7:23 a.m.:  Mass chaos.

7:30 a.m.:  Breakfast is over with.  I am the only living thing in the kitchen—Uncle is flat on his face in the doorway, having made the mistake to get between my family and the food.  Heh—some people never learn.

7:35 a.m.:  Goten and girls are off to school.

7:36 a.m.:  Ahhhh…..quiet.

7:40 a.m.:  Sanity is shattered when Uncle deposits screaming baby in my lap.

7:41 a.m.:  Ewww….Juugo needs changed.

7:43 a.m.:  Wonder why Uncle just didn't do it himself instead of dragging Juugo all the way down here to me.  Ask.

7:45 a.m.:  Uncle is halfway to the Yukon.

7:47 a.m.:  My son has invented a new shade of green.  

7:50 a.m.:  Source of offending smell has been eradicated with a Masenko.

7:51 a.m.:  Spend some mommy 'n me time with Juugo.

7:56 a.m.:  Babies are so cute!

8:00 a.m.:  Dad shows up at the door to babysit for the day.

8:01 a.m.:  Has to pry Juugo out of my arms.

8:05 a.m.:  On my way to work—driving today.

8:08 a.m.:  Road rage.

8:09 a.m.:  Roll down window, discreetly blast offender's tires

8:11 a.m.:  Traffic jam is solved.

8:20 a.m.:  Arrive at work to be met by a row of smiling faces and cries of joy.

8:21 a.m.:  Forced to tell dolphins I'm not the one with their breakfast today.

8:22 a.m.:  Ears nearly shattered by _squees _of protest.

8:30 a.m.:  Finally find newbie intern and remind him it's his job to feed the dolphins.

8:31 a.m.:  Newbie tries to play dumb.  Tempted to set his shoes on fire.  Or that perfectly slicked back hair of his.

8:32 a.m.:  Settle for grabbing said perfectly-styled hair and dragging him down to dolphins.

8:40 a.m.:  Dolphins are fed.

8:45 a.m.:  Lock myself in lab.

8:48 a.m.:  Find my project list for the day.

9:30 a.m.:  *sigh* the joy of collecting lab results.

11:00 a.m.:  Lunchtime.  Newbie intern tries to "make up" for "forgetting" to feed the dolphins by offering to buy me lunch.

11:02 a.m.:  Am not sure whether to laugh or be insulted.

11:05 a.m.:  Am saved from having to answer by Pan's appearance.

11:06 a.m.:  What is Pan doing here?

11:08 a.m.:  Ooooh…newbie just tried to hit on Pan.  Look forward to see him meet her fist.

11:09 a.m.:  Am not disappointed.

11:10 a.m.:  Wow…it's been a long time since I've seen a man fly that far.

11:12 a.m.:  After congratulating Pan on a great punch, ask her why she's here.

11:13 a.m.:  Am thanked with a bout of tears.

11:20 a.m.:  Finally able to decipher that Pan and Trunks have had their first fight as a married couple.  Try hard not to be amused.

11:25 a.m.:  Fail miserably once I learn that it was over a brand of toothpaste.

11:27 a.m.:  Force laughter to die off once Pan looks like she might start crying again.

11:30 a.m.:  Tell Pan just to buy both brands of toothpaste next time she goes to the store and enjoy being married.

11:32 a.m.:  Enjoy watching her blush as I imply some…other things…that Aunts aren't supposed to know about.

11:35 a.m.:  Decide to leave the girl's love life alone and ask if she wants to eat lunch with me.

11:36 a.m.:  Pan declines.  Claims she has somewhere to be.  Know she's going to go visit her husband in his office.

11:38 a.m.:  Decide not to give him advance warning.  Sometimes it's nice to be hereditarily evil.

12:00 p.m.:  Lunch is over—back to the lab.

3:30 p.m.:  Banging my head against the wall in frustration won't do anything…except maybe hurt the wall.

5:00 p.m.:  Thank you, Dende!  Phase out of the lab before anyone, (especially annoying newbie intern) can catch me.

5:01 p.m.:  Have decided to forego the whole driving experience and fly home.  Why bother with a car when you don't need one?

5:10 p.m.:  Arrive home to find that the hole in the wall has been repaired.

5:15 p.m.:  House is empty.  Am suddenly afraid.

5:16 p.m.:  Find note on table from Goten.  For an elementary school teacher, he has horrid handwriting.

5:20 p.m.:  Time for a swim.

5:45 p.m.:  Ahhhhhh…nothing's better than a swim in the ocean.  Except maybe Goten.

5:46 p.m.:  Goten in the ocean is even better.

5:50 p.m.:  Dive back under—hope the cold water will help.

5:55 p.m.:  Barely.

6:00 p.m.:  Turn on cooking droids.

6:05 p.m.:  Crash on couch and wonder how Goten is handling both Juugo and the twins at the Dojo.

6:06 p.m.:  Turn on evening news.

6:16 p.m.:  Pan and Trunks were caught kissing on tape—the station aired it.  Laugh hysterically.

6:17 p.m.:  Count four—no five, massive ki spikes in the distance.

6:18 p.m.:  One of those is abruptly squashed.

6:19 p.m.:  Smirk.  Bulma must have taken away Vegeta's privileges again.

6:22 p.m.:  The other kis fade.  Don't have to worry about impending doom of earth.

6:45 p.m.:  Dinner is done.  Family isn't back yet.

6:46 p.m.:  Am worried.  Goten never misses food.

6:47 p.m.:  No need to worry.  Door bursts open and three black holes with mouths are suddenly at the kitchen table.

6:48 p.m.:  Don't see Juugo anywhere.  Panic.

6:50 p.m.:  Hear Juugo's babble over the sounds of Saiyans eating.  Follow it.

6:52 p.m.:  Find Mom on the front porch swing, wrinkling her nose at Juugo.  Smile and hide to watch.  Mom is such a sucker for babies; almost as bad as Dad.

6:55 p.m.:  Juugo gets his hands on Mom's hair.  I have to bite back a laugh.  He's asking for trouble there.

6:58 p.m.:  Juugo manages to get both hands in Mom's hair.  I decide it's time to save her.

7:00 p.m.:  Sit with Mom and Juugo.  Selectively ignoring the chaos inside.

7:02 p.m.:  Wave Goten off to the dojo, silently cursing him for leaving me alone with the girls.

7:10 p.m.:  Ok, someone's given them sugar.

7:25 p.m.:  Remember, they're only kids.

7:30 p.m.:  Seeing red.  That painting was an antique!

7:45 p.m.:  Girls sent to room.  Hear suspicious giggling, but decide to ignore it.  Bedrooms have been Saiyan-proofed.

7:49 p.m.:  Apparently the doors have not.  Twins' bedroom is now without a door.

7:50 p.m.:  Break down and find the frying Pan Chichi gave me for a wedding present.

7:53 p.m.:  Twins aren't going to try anything else tonight.

7:54 p.m.:  Time to get lost in that new romance novel my boss recommended.

8:00 p.m.:  Frantic phone call from Bra.

8:05 p.m.:  Best friend now sobbing hysterically at the other end of the couch.  Can't tell what she's saying through the tears.

8:10 p.m.:  Have managed to get Bra to stop crying.  Can't tell what she's saying now either; it's in Saiyago.

8:15 p.m.:  Goten is back from the dojo.  Apparently Bra's insulting the heritage of her latest fling in anatomically impossible terms.  Enjoy watching him turn a brilliant shade of red.

8:17 p.m.:  Goten grabs Juugo and retreats upstairs.

8:19 p.m.:  Bra's rant cut off as Goten discovers the twin's remodeling project.

9:30 p.m.:  Sent Bra back off to Capsule Corps, wander upstairs in search of husband.

9:35 p.m.:  Goten is snoozing in bed, a twin beneath each arm and Juugo on his chest.

9:40 p.m.:  Finally find my digital camera.

10:00 p.m.:  Pictures sent to grandparents and various other relatives.

10:01 p.m.:  Can't get interested in my book.

10:10 p.m.:  *yawn* No new news since 6:00.

10:15 p.m.:  Lock doors and crawl up to bed, making sure to clear the path of toys in the morning.

10:30 p.m.:  Monda decides my stomach makes a better pillow than her Dad's chest.

10:40 p.m.:  Ewww.  Drool.

11:00 p.m.:  Goten manages to wake up long enough to cart the twins back off to bed, while I put Juugo back in the nursery.

11:05 p.m.:  Goten and I are alone, perhaps for the first night in weeks.

11:06 p.m.:  Look at all those muscles.  Drool.

11:07 p.m.:  Goten decides to take a shower—says he'll be right back.

11:15 p.m.:  *yawn* So tired…maybe I'll just close my eyes for a minute….

11:30 p.m.:  Goten crawls back into bed.  I'm not in the mood.

11:35 p.m.:  Goten makes a good pillow.

11:40 p.m.:  *sigh*  Maybe tomorrow will be better.

11:41 p.m.:  Find an Amazing Hercule action figure in my bed.

11:42 p.m.:  It's about to start all over again, so I should probably….

11:45 p.m.: …get….some….

11:50 p.m.:  …sleep….

11:51 p.m.:  ZZZZZzzzzzzz…..

Finis.

Please review!


	9. The Singing Saiyan

A/N:  Erm…sorry it took so long, and is so short…but….school.  Also have had an option to really make this fic something different….and am wondering your ideas on how plottish I can get in later chapters.  This little plot bunny did some major evolving…but I won't shove it in if people aren't interested.

Rarity 88:  Yup.  Marron's the boss of her household, and anybody who challenges her power gets fed to the dolphins ;)

Otepoti, Android 71:  Thanks!

DemonDancing:  Erm…I haven't quite introduced that branch of the Son family.  But Goten and Marron are married, and they have twin girls, Macadamia and Almond, who are two or three years younger than Barden, and a son named Juugo who is probably close to a year old in that snippet…which was set a bit in the future.  He's about six or seven months old, I believe, and yes, lots of chaos.

Ok…have a bit of advertising:  Long-haired Gohan, aka Hunky, has been making appearances in other fics.  He's in Maria Cline's _Normal Friends from Strange Places_, and is also in DemonDancing's _Attack of the Gohans_, if you're not hunkied out.  I recommend them both, as they are amusing reads.

Disclaimer:  I don't own DB/Z/GT, but I do own Barden and a few other characters, and like to know if hunky's being placed elsewhere.  And now, time for the story.

A Saiyan Homecoming

Chapter 7:  The Singing Saiyan

There were a lot of frightening things in the universe:  Pompous Androids named Cell, giant red-eyed Apes intent on destroying planets, a big pink blob who could turn demons into cookies without effort, and nurses armed with hypothermic needles.  Gohan had faced down all of these and lived to tell the tale.  But this time, he was starting to wonder if he was ever going to walk away from this one.  Son Chichi had arrived, and she was angrier than he had ever seen her.

On the bed beside him, Goten had finally succumbed to the blessed retreat of unconsciousness, and had been rescued from their mother's wrath.  Gohan hadn't been so lucky.

His mother stood at the foot of his bed, fists planted on her hips, and continued to lecture, as she had for the past ten minutes.  "What were you thinking, attacking Vegeta in downtown Satan City?  Are you mad?"  

Her eyes bore a hole through his skull, into his brain, and activated his flight-or-flight reflex.  Unfortunately, Gohan knew Videl was perched out in the hallway with a Saiyan-sized tranquilizer gun at her fingertips.  He'd never make it two steps past the doorway.  Of course, then he'd be unconscious and wouldn't be able to hear her rant; but then Videl would be even more upset than she already was.

A strangled noise escaped from his throat, but was quickly muffled when her glare intensified.  Dende, she was still scary!

"And to think you did it in front of Barden!  What kind of man will he be with you setting such bad examples for him?  It's not like he has any other decent male role-models around!"

Gohan opened his mouth, effectively erasing any chance he had of getting away with less than an hour of a very loud reprimand.  "I didn't do anything but protect myself…Vegeta started it!"

"SON GOHAN," his mother began to wind up for the kill, "You're forty-one years old and you still sound like a two-year-old!"

"Fifty-six," Gohan mumbled.

"DON'T INTERRUPT ME!"  Chichi roared, forgetting she was in a hospital filled to bursting with injured and sick people, who were currently being jolted out of their healing states by a sound Vegeta had once described as 'banshee.'  "Honestly, you'd think two years training with the Supreme Kai would have improved your manners!"

"Fifteen years," Gohan corrected again.

"What?"  Chichi paused, temporarily distracted from her tirade.  "Fifteen years?"  She stared at Gohan for a second, then abruptly spun on her heel and marched through the partially open door, leaving a painful silence in her wake.

Gohan sighed, thankful she was gone, and sank back into the flattened brick the hospital liked to call a pillow.  He had just closed his eyes when Chichi came back, tugging on the arm of a nurse who was practically quaking with trepidation.  "I think he hit his head too hard," Chichi was telling the girl, who looked nearly dead on her feet.  "His sense of time is distorted." 

Gohan held his breath.

"I think he needs a CAT-scan to make sure that that short pain-in-the-ass in the next room didn't scramble his brains."  Abruptly his mother sat down in one of the architectural-engineering rejects better known as a chair and began to cry, much to the poor nurse's confusion.  "My poor baby," she sobbed.  "He used to be so smart—but all of this fighting is going to get the better of him one of these days and then I'll just have Goten…and he's just as bad as his father!"

This last statement bought a fresh round of tears, and the Nurse shot Gohan a frantic glance.

"It'll be ok," he murmured quietly.  "Mom just gets a little emotional when she's stressed."  He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  "She'll be fine in a few minutes."

The nurse glanced at the almost hysterical woman, back at Gohan, then shrugged.  She crossed the room to stand next to him.  "You feel ok?"  Before he could answer she jabbed a thermometer into his mouth.  "Don't talk," she ordered briskly, going to the end of his bed to look at the chart.  After a few seconds she withdrew the thermometer, and after noting that his temperature was nothing to worry about, high-tailed it from the room.

Gohan swung his legs out of bed and staggered over to his mother.  "C'mon, Mom," he pleaded quietly, "don't cry.  It was just a little brawl, and everybody's gonna be fine.  We've been through worse."

Chichi swallowed her tears and gave him another death-glare.  "Son Gohan!  You get your tail back in bed right now," she ordered.  "You're not going to get any better if you don't get some rest!"

"But Mom," Gohan whined.

"No buts!"  Chichi snarled back, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him back towards the gurney.  "Bed!"

Gohan grumbled a bit, but he knew when it was better not to continue to fight, and trudged back to his bed, angrily throwing his head back into the pillows.  He wouldn't ever disobey his mother, but that didn't mean he had to like obeying her.  Listening was just a better way to keep his sanity; and it involved a lot less pain.

He had just closed his eyes again when he was once again disturbed, this time, by the sounds of screams from the next room.  Pan's screams.  Gohan was out of the bed in a heartbeat, skidding across the tiled floor on his bare feet to the next room, his mother like quicksilver on his heels.

Gohan didn't even pause once he reached his daughter's room, simply plowed through the congregation of doctors and nurses to see what was going on with Pan.

She was flat on her back on some sort of table, golden hair dangling off the edge.  Juuhachi was sitting on her chest, a hand planted firmly on each of Pan's shoulders as she pinned the girl to the table.  Krillin and Yamcha each clung to one of her ankles as if their lives depended on it, and Videl stood at their daughter's head, some sort of bottle in hand.  "All right Pan," she soothed, looking more distressed than Pan did.  "We're going to have to do it again."

"It won't do any good," Pan replied in a tense voice.  "My energy levels are too high.  The stuff gets vaporized before it can even get to my eyes."

Videl sighed.  "Panny, we have to do something.  This will help."

Pan snorted.  "I'd rather just go blind, thanks."

Gohan decided it was time to make his presence known.  He stepped up to his daughter, laying his hand on her wrist.  "Pan," he whispered gently.  "Pan, listen closely.  You can relax without transforming.  Just enough so the solution won't burn you.  Just listen to my voice."

He had learned many things while he was training with the Supreme Kai, including a collection of very bizarre but effective meditation techniques.  One, which leaned suspiciously towards hypnotism, could be inducted by an outsider, and Gohan had learned the words.  Unfortunately, those words had to be sung.

Laying Pan's hand across his cast, a fashionable black, he began tracing patterns across the back of her hand.  [Pan,] he growled in Saiyago, [I want you to imagine that there is a barrier around your eyes—an energy barrier.  When I start, visualize your energy draining out of that barrier, around it, away from your eyes.  Do you understand?]

Juuhachi and the others were giving him questioning looks, but he didn't care.  It was easiest to communicate with a Saiyan on a level that every Saiyan learned by instinct, their own language.

Gohan sighed, preparing to destroy the few strands of dignity he had lest.  Filling his lungs with air, he opened his mouth and did something that gave everyone present blackmail material for eternity.  Son Gohan, the upcoming Supreme-Kai elect, began to sing.

It wasn't that Gohan had a voice that could burst eardrums—but it wasn't professional quality either.  Videl had once called it pleasant, but Gohan was sure she was just being nice to him.  He thought he sounded more like a fusion between a howling cat and an opera singer with laryngitis.  In this case however, it wasn't the sound of the voice that was important, just the words, so he continued to sing.

In all honesty, he wasn't sure exactly what he was singing about, but he had heard the words so many times that he didn't need to know the meaning, only that they worked.  He thought it might have been an epic tale of a Hippogriff named Anastasia.  

Somewhere up in the next dimension the woman who currently held the title of the Muse of Epic Poetry covered two of her sisters with the nectar she'd been drinking as someone down below absolutely slaughtered the Ballad of Qui-gon Jinn by implying that one of his ancestors had had relations with various kitchen appliances.

Behind Gohan, Krillin had a more dignified reaction.  He began to laugh.  It wasn't a mocking, jeering laugh that he used when poking fun at another's discomfort, but the deep belly laugh that he saved for when he was truly amused; the very same deep belly laugh that happened to be absolutely contagious.

Beside him, Yamcha began to chuckle.  After a moment or two, Juuhachi began to smirk, which was the closest thing she had ever gotten to a true laugh in Gohan's presence.  Gohan shot at a pleading glance at his wife, only to be met with tired eyes that were dancing with humor.  Great.  Now even his own mate was against him.

He jutted his chin out defiantly and continued to sing to his daughter, who, he noticed with no little glee, was starting to relax.  At least he wasn't grinding his dignity into oblivion for nothing.  He continued with his song, ignoring the snickers of those around him, concentrating solely on his daughter.

When she was relaxed enough, he looked up at his mate.  "Try it again," he ordered softly, still continuing to rub patterns across his daughter's knuckles.

Videl snapped out of her shock and upended the bottle, carefully flooding her daughter's now black eyes.  After a few seconds she looked up and nodded at her husband.  "Done!"

Gohan immediately stopped singing and snapped the fingers of his good hand in front of Pan's face to pull her out of it.  Unfortunately, he'd failed to consider the fact that snapping her out of the trance would bring her back up to full power.  The quarter-saiyan let out a soft howl of pain as the liquid her mother had just deposited into her eyes turned into steam and burnt the sensitive tissues.  She slid right out of the still-stunned Juuhachi's grip and sat up.  Right into Gohan's hand.  There was a loud crack, and Gohan suddenly became aware that the wrist on his good arm was now broken.

Videl and everyone else in the room winced, while he stared at the hand which now dangled numbly from an arm that felt like it was one fire.  One of the doctors in the crowd, a particularly brave man, stepped forward and touched Gohan's shoulder.  "This way sir," he murmured.  "We'll get that set and cast for you right away."

Pan's eyes flickered back up to green as she stared at her father.  [I'm so sorry,] she cried in Saiyago, her features aligned in an expression as close to guilt that a Super-Saiyan could get.

Gohan's face softened, and he unwrapped his tail and brushed it across her hand comfortingly.  [It's just broken,] he replied through gritted teeth.  [I'll have matching set of casts now.  Nothing permanent.]

Pan's green eyes fixed on her father's face.  [At least Saiyans heal quickly,] she tried to reason.

Gohan forced a smile as the doctor, now joined by a few nurses, increased their efforts to usher him away so they could get his arm set as quickly as possible.  Chichi added her voice to the others, and Gohan gave in.  Rising to his feet, he allowed the medical personnel hovering around him to lead him away to another room, leaving the others staring after him in various expressions of shock or amusement.

As soon as the door closed after them the room erupted into laughter again.

Gohan ground his teeth from more than pain.  Oh yes.  As soon as he got out of this mess he was going to go find the Sprite of Circumstance and have a nice long talk about who had ordered all of this to occur.  His suspicions immediately implicated a purple-skinned deity who had become his latest sensei, but Gohan didn't want to jump to conclusions.

At least not until he'd had a chance to do some interrogation….Saiyan style.

*********

Please, please, PLEASE review!


	10. The Wonders of Technology

A/N: Erm.yes. I'm aware that it's been forever since I've posted, but it took me three drafts to get a version of this chapter that I liked, plus the holidays and my family moving and so on and so forth.but hey, it's done now! As I'm being really lazy today, I'm not going to do individual review responses, but this is just a mass thank-you, welcome to near readers, hope you're still around for the old readers, and so on. Major thanks goes out to the people on my reading list, whose kind suggestions helped me get through this chapter. Extremely major thanks to Maria Cline-because without her, I don't think this chapter ever would have been done. Update list/discussion group: http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/nadialist/ Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ A Saiyan Homecoming Chapter 10: The Wonders of Technology  
  
Night had passed over Satan City, and the sun was rising in a glorious crescendo of oranges, pinks, and reds over the horizon, but Satan City as a whole didn't notice it. In fact, it hadn't even registered that night was over except for the fact that the reporters mobbed around the hospital no longer needed to huddle together for warmth. Satan City was entirely focused on the occupants of three particular rooms on the top floor of its General Hospital, wondering how exactly they were involved in the massive explosions and destructions in the commercial district.  
  
Those particular objects of speculation were almost all asleep thanks to the heroic effort of one Videl Son and her tantalizing tranquilizer gun, but that didn't mean they were neatly tucked away from the eye of the public. Oh no; they had gathered a small public of their own amongst the hospital staff, patients, and the various visitors that had managed to get past the armed police officers in riot-gear who were guarding the hospital's perimeter.  
  
There was one sight that attracted all of this limited public, and it happened to be not a person, but the.clothes.that he was chosen to wear. The crowd could be found gathered around the window to the room of the man marked as John Doe #4, who had since been nicknamed 'the Prince.'  
  
The Prince of what had yet to be determined.  
  
At this particular moment, they were admiring his body cast, for it was, without a doubt, the one and only tie-died body cast in existence. Well, maybe admired isn't the proper word for it.  
  
"He looks like a mummified hippie."  
  
"Well," a male voice murmured, "I wouldn't go that far, 18. I was thinking more like a human-well, Saiyan Easter egg."  
  
A chorus of not-so-polite snickers answered that statement. "Too bad we didn't have a pair of those rabbit-ears that kids wear at Easter and a camera."  
  
"Yamcha!"  
  
"Sorry Puar. But it would be funny."  
  
Goten's wife was not so easily swayed. Having been pulled from a weekend scuba-diving expedition to discover her husband unconscious in a hospital- and being ogled at by every male in the vicinity because of her spandex wetsuit, Marron was feeling more than a little evil. But then again, her mother always told her evil was hereditary, so she didn't need a reason. "I've got some at home."  
  
"Need a lift?"  
  
"Don't even think about it, Yamcha," Marron retorted easily. "I can fly just as well as you."  
  
"Then what's holding you back?"  
  
Marron rolled her eyes and glanced pointedly towards the room next door. "What about the unconscious man in the next room who happens to be my husband?"  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
Puar sighed. "You're too tired, Lord Yamcha. Maybe you should do what Videl-san is and take a nap on one of the couches." She was in human form, which the others hadn't quite gotten used to yet, and tried to tug her friend over towards one of the couches. "You have practice in a few hours, anyway."  
  
Yamcha shrugged her off and went back to staring at Vegeta. "I'll be ok, Puar. It's not like I'm going to actually be doing anything tomorrow but talk." He glanced back at the windows. "Besides, this is a once-in-a- lifetime opportunity. Even by our standards." A grin twisted his careworn face into something women found attractive. "Vegeta being publicly humiliated without knowing it. What could be better than that?"  
  
There was one thing better than that, but because a very minor god had slipped from beneath Shin's eyes and was wreaking havoc, it happened. Everybody needed a break sometime, and Yamcha was about to get his.  
  
Laying in the hospital bed covered in such a grotesque cast, Vegeta, the Prince of Saiyans, woke up. Like any true fighting Saiyan, his first instinct was to get up and face down whatever threat might be coming instead of lying prone in the middle of what smelt like one of the Earthling's primitive hospitals. Of course, thanks to the bodycast and the aftereffects of enough tranquilizer to lay out an entire city for hours, he was unable to do more than lift his head.  
  
Vegeta's first choice of words was a rather inventive string of alien curses, that, for the weak-souled, could not be translated. At least not by anyone currently on Earth. Well, Gohan could have, but he too was under the effects of the tranquilizer, and the effects were not so pleasant for him. Pure Gorilla tranquilizer worked well on full-saiyans, but the effects on the demis were a bit.unpleasant. The only person capable of understanding the words that were coming out of Vegeta's mouth was currently lost in a massive hallucination about being a giant banana, leaving the Saiyan Prince free to curse on.  
  
And curse he did, at such length that his crowd of admirers had ceased their initial reactions of running for cover to pause and wonder at his choice of words, and the length they went on.  
  
"Well," the surgeon who'd orchestrated the whole casting process murmured to the nurse beside him, "I've never had someone be so.vocal before."  
  
The nurse sighed. "You haven't been in the one where The Lone Saiyan and the Goldpan Girl are. She talks for both of them-I think she's telepathic, because she does a lot of arguing with herself."  
  
A second nurse, the same one who had been subjected to Chichi's emotional outburst earlier, nodded. "My two," she was, of course, referring to the Son brothers, "they're.terrified of nurses. I'm not sure why-but their mother has a set of lungs like an elephant."  
  
"You get all sorts of people in through here," the surgeon chided. "These, though have been the most.eccentric."  
  
"I don't think eccentric is a strong enough word, Doctor. Maybe stark raving lunatics would be better."  
  
A few feet down the plate glass window, another conversation was taking place.  
  
"I wonder what he's saying," Krillin mused.  
  
"We probably don't want to know, Dad," his daughter replied. "It is Vegeta."  
  
Yamcha, after the initial shock had worn off, was having more practical thoughts. "Do you think we ought to wake Videl up? She's the one with the tranquilizer gun."  
  
"Let her sleep," Chichi advised quietly. "There isn't any tranquilizer left. She used the last of it on Gohan when he tried to check on Pan one- too-many times." The dark head swiveled to look at the sleeping woman, who had been covered by her lawyer-friend's jacket on one of the couches. "Never wake a sleeping dragon. Not unless you're prepared for the flames."  
  
Sleeping dragons had nothing on Bulma Briefs. She was marching towards them, parting the crowd as easily as a chainsaw cut through butter. The people in floor, while not immediately recognizing the blue-haired woman in a lab coat and blood-spattered scrubs, moved away from her furious expression before she ever got close. If doom could take a particular face, then Bulma was the poster-child at the moment. Whatever the genius decided to take her anger out on the gods most definitely did not favor.  
  
At the moment, they weren't favoring our favorite tie-dyed Saiyan. At all.  
  
Bulma Briefs ran a hand through her blue hair and stormed past the surgeons, the nurses, the security guards, and even her friends into her husband's exhibition area.er.hospital room, and unleashed hell. "I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!"  
  
Every window within a fifteen-yard radius rattled.  
  
"You promised me no more wanton destruction! I don't care if it was just a city and not a planet! I swear you Saiyans have an extra liter of testosterone somewhere! Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"  
  
Vegeta, of course, was not given the chance to answer before she continued.  
  
"A city block, Vegeta! In daylight! With witnesses! This is worse than that blasted World Tournament! At least then we had dragonballs!" Bulma paused for breath. "What am I going to do with you? I'm sure someone saw something, and they'll be coming down on us like vultures! All across the lawn!"  
  
She frowned, and her angry expression morphed into something much more frightening. All of the others listened, mentally taking bets on the sentence that was about to be slapped onto the Saiyan Prince for disobeying the don't-destroy-populated-areas rule.  
  
Bulma skipped all of the preliminaries, and went right to the Sacred Three, which, used in combination, was the secret to making any Saiyan behave. Well, that and a large frying pan, but that's another story entirely. "You have to eat my cooking."  
  
Everyone who'd had prior experience with the basic-chemistry-experiment- gone-horribly-wrong that was Bulma's idea of food grimaced. The man would never get better if he had to eat that-even hospital food was better.  
  
"I'm taking the ignition chips out of the GR until further notice."  
  
Nothing new there.  
  
"And no sex."  
  
Well, that was it. Vegeta'd had his favorite things taken from him.and on top of that he'd been sexiled too. What a lovely thing to wake up to. But Bulma wasn't finished yet.oh no.she had one more punishment to bring down on their heads-for it would cover the other Saiyans, too.  
  
"Since the lot of you have decided to not think before you act, I'm going to take away what thinking produces. More specifically, the regeneration tanks. You and the others are going to have to heal the normal way." Bulma crossed her arms and glared down at Vegeta, daring him to challenge her verdict.  
  
Vegeta stared back, unwilling to submit to this last indignation. He was not going to stay imprisoned in that hideous.thing one second more than he had to.  
  
Being in such close proximity to her mate and watching him like a hawk for any sort of reaction, Bulma was easily able to follow the thought, and wondered what he was so upset about. Then she noticed the body cast.  
  
The now-larger audience clustered on the other side of the plate-glass window, waiting for any sort of reaction, were not expecting the one they got. They were expecting laughter.maybe even amusement, but much to her credit, the acclaimed genius merely flicked an eyebrow upwards and stared down at her hapless husband.  
  
"That's quite a body cast you've got there," she commented wryly. "Trying to make a fashion statement?"  
  
Vegeta snarled. "Onna! I had no part in this.outrage! You will take me out of this at once!"  
  
Bulma snorted. "Why? Because you destroyed three quarters of a city block in the commercial district? Had a fight with Gohan in downtown while your daughter was buried in the rubble of a shoe store? From what Barden told me, you nearly killed Videl and the police officers. Does any of that warrant your release?" She folded her arms and fixed him with a look that could have made lava turn to ice.  
  
Her mate, however, was still a prideful man. One who refused to whine in public. He merely narrowed his eyes and stared up at her. "Onna."  
  
His wife, however, was just as proud as he was, and maybe even more stubborn, which was probably the only reason they had stuck together so long anyway. "No Vegeta. You heard what I said. You're stuck like that until I decide otherwise."  
  
The room, and the crowd outside, was quiet enough to hear Gohan whimpering about being eaten by a giant oozaru named Vegeta in the next room. He'd somehow managed to bite through his gag-it must have been a pretty potent hallucination.  
  
She reached into the pocket of her worn lab coat and pulled out a capsule, which could have contained anything from her own personal portable wardrobe to the latest in aerospace technology. A casual flick of her wrist tossed it towards the floor, where one of her more high-tech workbenches popped into existence with a light poof of smoke. Bulma yanked open a drawer, and lifted out some sort of band.and a flat piece of metal. Stomping on the capsule button, the workbench encapsulated itself, leaving Bulma and the objects.  
  
And Vegeta, who suddenly had a very bad feeling about where all of this was heading.  
  
Bulma smiled at him. "Given how you Saiyans tend to react when injured, I've been planning for a situation like this." She fingered the band, which looked suspiciously like one of Goku's old headbands, lovingly. Before he could say anything, she had slipped it on over his head, tapping a metal button on it with one finger.  
  
Vegeta's pride was the only thing that kept him from showing his pure shock when he found he couldn't control his ki.  
  
"Onna," he forced out through gritted teeth.  
  
"You like it?" Bulma questioned, enthusiasm for her latest debilitating gadget shining in her eyes. "It's a ki disruptor. Transmits a combination wave that effectively separates you from your ki control." She took the flat metal disk in her hand and gingerly pressed it to his chest, nodding in satisfaction when it fastened itself to the plaster. "This," she murmured, in full scientist mode now, "is a ki inhibitor-it naturally dampens your ki, so you'll stay in that cast until your body is completely healed."  
  
She smiled at him, and leaned close to drop a motherly kiss on his forehead. "After all, I can't have my Veggie-poo out of action for longer than he has to, can I?"  
  
With a saucy wink and a subtle swing of hip, his mate turned around and left, leaving him alone to rage, unable to do the slightest thing about it.  
  
Oh yes. Human women could be evil at the slightest provocation.  
  
Bulma walked neatly from the room, shutting the door behind her and pulling out a flat plastic box from yet another pocket of her lab coat. "I doubt you'll get any more trouble out of him," she told the nurses. "His bark is worse than his bite." She swiveled to face her friends. "Where's Videl? I found her another box of darts."  
  
Krillin pointed to the wall, where Barden, who had snuck in quietly on Bulma's shadow, had taken up a guarding position at his mother's head. Unlike the rest of them, he had actually managed to get a nap while Bulma worked on her daughter, and wasn't nearly sleeping on his feet. Videl was curled up almost like a cat on one of the hospital couches, blissfully ignorant to the tapping of her lawyer-friend's keyboard as she typed away, frantically brainstorming ideas to help get them out of this mess.  
  
Bulma wandered over to the lawyer, one Erasa Borrador, and extended her hand. "If you need them, the Capsule Corps legal department is on call."  
  
The woman, who was way too perky for this early in the morning, glanced up from her laptop and nodded. "Thanks Mrs. Briefs."  
  
"It's Bulma," she corrected. "Any progress?"  
  
Erasa shook her head.  
  
"I'm sure you'll come up with something." Bulma assured. "If not, we've got friends in higher places who might help us out." That was, of course, if Dende had forgiven her for starting this little fracas in the first place. Bulma yawned and sank down on the couch adjacent to Videl's, sorely tempted to take a nap herself. She was working on the transfer papers to get them moved from Satan City General to the CC private hospital, but the best estimate she'd been able to procure was at least another twelve hours, and she wasn't going to be able to stay awake that long. Not after just spending the past 6 carefully pulling shards of glass and metal out of her daughter's back.  
  
Seeing that Bulma wasn't really going to be stirring up anything else of interest, the others began to monopolize spare couches and chairs of their own, while the rest of the confused audience wandered off in search of better entertainment than a bunch of sleeping people.  
  
Juuhachi, being the enhanced super-human that she was, did not require sleep like any of the rest of them did. She had her own miniature nuclear device that supplied all of her cybernetics with energy-she only had to 'rest' when her mind became exhausted, and due to intense training, that was every three or four days. Since the others had things to do, she continued guarding the patients in the event that someone, namely Vegeta, would cause trouble.  
  
She never suspected Gohan.  
  
While everyone had been admiring the plaster surgeon's handiwork, Gohan, lost in his own terrifying little hallucination, had managed to break the gag that they'd put in his mouth in one of those eerily convenient coincidences. Now Son Gohan was normally a very quiet man-and fifteen years roaming the multiverse hadn't been able to change that, but the sort of hallucination Gohan was going through had made him quite.loud.  
  
Dreaming that you were a giant banana was odd. Dreaming that the giant banana was being eating by an oozaru Saiyan was even worse, but the fact that the Oozaru was none other than Vegeta topped the cake. Gohan was in a nightmare, and was being very vocal about it.  
  
"No!" He moaned. "Don't-don't peel me!"  
  
"AAAAH!" Oh yes, it was still possible for demi-saiyans who were kai- elects to scream like frightened teenagers.  
  
"Ouch. That hurt."  
  
"No..you're not.you're not gonna eat me are you? Vegeta! Don't! I'm not a banana!"  
  
More absolutely terrified screaming followed, complete with appropriate death noises for a man who thought he was being eaten alive. His brother, however, had had enough. Son Goten, current holder of the "Strongest Under the Heavens" Title, was normally a very patient man. He taught second grade-the man was practically a saint. And he loved his brother, he really did. Gohan had been the closest thing he'd had to a father for years, and that sort of bond was something that never disappeared. But Goten, for all his patience, had had enough.  
  
Swinging his legs off the side of the bed he pulled himself to his feet, pointedly ignoring the way the ceiling and the floor were threatening to swap places on him. Goten, perhaps the least injured of them all next to Pan, had suffered a concussion, a very minor thing for a Saiyan, and like any true Saiyan, was determined not to let it slow him down. The fact that he had escaped Videl's dartgun could only work in his favor.  
  
Wondering why there was such a draft up the back of his hospital gown, Goten stumbled into the hall, in search of someone who could help his brother.  
  
Now, a Saiyan with a concussion is no less confused than any person, but the quiet of the hall made Goten's brain even fuzzier. Wobbly turning his head in both directions, he spied a familiar figure, or at least that's what he thought it was through his blurred vision. He blinked. She was blonde, about his wife's shape, lounging in front of a glass window. Must be Marron.  
  
Shuffling over behind her, he seized her by the waist and crushed her to him, planting a kiss in the vicinity of her mouth. "Hey love," he slurred. "What are you doing here? I thought you were out diving." What passed for Goten's frown flicked across his face, but was soon gone. "Are you still wearing your weights? You've gotten heavier."  
  
Juuhachi stared up at her son-in-law from where he held her and blinked.  
  
A few feet away, Goten's real wife, Marron, sat up from the couch she was sharing with Barden and blinked. Her husband had her mother by the waist, and was staring down at her, confused. "Goten!"  
  
The demi-Saiyan's head snapped around-he knew that voice very well, and it wasn't coming from the woman he was holding. Squinting, he tried to see whom he had.  
  
Marron scrambled off the couch, pausing long enough to shove Barden back onto it before he fell off, and hurried over to them. "Goten!" She hissed. "That's my mother! Not me!"  
  
Goten forced his eyes to focus, and much to his surprise he found that the woman he was holding wasn't Marron but his mother-in-law. He released her immediately, and backed up a step or two towards his mate. "Sorry Juuhachi."  
  
Juuhachi raised a blonde eyebrow and stared at them for a moment before stalking back over to the window to keep an eye on Vegeta. Marron, scarlet red, tugged on his arm and led him over to the couch, ignoring her nephew's giggles. "Goten," she hissed, "what are you doing out of bed?"  
  
Goten grimaced and blinked, trying to focus on her face. "Have you heard Gohan?"  
  
"Of course I have," she replied, running her fingers through his hair in a fruitless effort to rearrange the spikes. "I think the whole floor has."  
  
"Try sleeping in there with him," Goten mumbled, settling his head on her shoulder. "Can I stay out here with you? Oniichan yells too loud."  
  
Marron twitched, too grumpy to coddle her husband this time. She did, however, realize there was some truth to his words. Gohan was loud out here in the hallway, even to people without sensitive ears. Goten must really have been hurting. She frowned and glanced around, trying to find a different place for her husband to sleep. Unfortunately, there was only one empty bed. And it was in Vegeta's room.  
  
With a resigned sigh, she rose and yanked on her husband's hands, not protesting when one fastened on her shoulder, and the other around her waist. He must really have had trouble seeing things, judging from the way he dogged her heels. Moving a bit like a demented two-headed monster, she managed to maneuver him into Vegeta's room.  
  
Vegeta, after a quick smirk at Marron's position, realized what she was doing. "Take him somewhere else, girl," he snarled in his typical arrogant fashion. "I am the Prince of all Saiyans, and deserve a room of my own."  
  
Marron shrugged at him. "Sorry your highness. You happen to be unpeeling Gohan in the next room, and Goten can't sleep through it. Go back to cursing your cast, and I won't have to hurt you." Leaving him with that to chew on, she pushed her husband down onto the free bed and yanked the blanket up to his shoulders. "There. Gohan's not so loud here. Why don't you go back to sleep."  
  
Goten, however, was staring blankly at the Prince. "Vegeta? Is that you?"  
  
"Of course it's me you baka," the Prince snarled. "Who did you think I was?"  
  
Goten blinked. "A clown. I think."  
  
Marron cut off Vegeta's reply. "Just go to sleep, Goten. The doctors said you'll see better in the morning." She turned and glared at Vegeta. "Leave him alone. Or I'll sic my kids on you."  
  
Vegeta snorted. "Is that supposed to frighten me, girl?"  
  
Marron raised an eyebrow. "It is when you're completely at their mercy." She cocked her head. "Damia and Monda draw me such nice artwork with Goten's marking pens. I'll be they'd love to have a living canvas." And with that she was gone back out to the hallway, leaving Vegeta alone with Goten, and thoughts of demonic twin girls as his torturers running through his head.  
  
The blonde-haired young woman wandered back to the couch, where Barden was still snickering to himself. She shoved him down to his end of the couch and plopped down on her end. "What's so funny?"  
  
Barden giggled. "Uncle Goten's not wearing any underwear."  
  
Marron rolled her eyes. "Go back to sleep Barden. Before I have to hurt you."  
  
Barden, throughout his innocence, was a smart boy. He knew when not to test his elders-and that tone of Aunt Marron's voice told him it was time for him to leave her alone. Besides.he was still tired anyway. He curled up next to her legs, using her feet as his pillow and tried to go back to sleep like everyone else was. Well, everyone except Miss Erasa anyway, and she didn't count because she hadn't been up all night.  
  
But then he saw something that swept all traces of sleep from his mind. "Look!" He called, prodding Aunt Marron's legs and reaching across the arm to poke at his mother. "Look! It's a green man! Like Dende! But bigger!"  
  
Juuhachi spun around from her position at Vegeta's window to see where Barden was pointing as Marron grumbled and kicked playfully at Barden and Videl sat up with a groan. "Huh?" She mumbled, scrubbing at her eyes. "What are you yelling at Barden?"  
  
Barden pointed again. "Look. A Namek!"  
  
Videl sighed. "It's just Dende, Barden. Go back to sleep."  
  
Barden shook his head. "Dende's not that big, Mom. That guy's bigger than Dad!"  
  
Videl glanced over to where her son was pointing, and, sure enough, a full- sized Namek stood next to the hall window, white cape billowing dramatically in the breeze that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere, green skin dark against the night sky. "Oh," she waved it off. "That's just Piccolo."  
  
She settled down to go back to sleep when she realized what she'd just said. "Piccolo!" She exclaimed, sitting straight up and staring at the man, who, as far as she knew, was supposed to be dead. "What are you doing here?"  
  
The Namek who had once been Earth's Kami shrugged. "I have no idea how I got here." He frowned and glanced towards the room from which Gohan's whimpers were clearly audible. "But I've come for Gohan."  
  
A very convenient lightning bolt streaked through the sky for dramatic effect. Dende enjoyed being the effects man when he had the time.  
  
Videl numbly pointed towards the room her mate was in. "He's in there."  
  
She watched in silence as the Namek paraded silently past her into the room and shut the door. Oh yes, morning had come, and the situation hadn't gotten any better at all.  
  
Clustered outside the hospital, the group of reporters, which now faintly resembled a very small army armed with notepads and microphones waited for the first glimmer of something that might be news.  
  
TBC.  
  
Please review! 


	11. The Great Council

A/N:  See, I told you it wouldn't take so long this time, and it didn't, despite the fact that this is probably the fourth draft of this chapter.  I don't know for sure, I haven't counted, but it's done.  I'm also introducing a lot of things that are going to seem confusing.  Don't worry about this chapter, just hang with me until the next one.  I'm trying to avoid redundancy.  Thanks go out to the ever-so-helpful Maria Cline and Lisse, for simply putting up with me, let alone sounding-board duties.  Next story on my focus is _Amazon & Saiyan:  Consequences_, so it might be a few weeks before I can get the next chapter out.

On a different note, P.L.S. is the 100th reviewer, which is a milestone I never thought I'd cross.  Hmmm….to do a review special or no…maybe once I get to 150.

Thanks Saiyasith, otepoti, Brandon B., DarkAngel-Raven, Son Amy, and Professor Authordude!

Andromeda of the Moon:  I have plans for Vegeta, which include helpless him and the demontwins, so he'll be in that bodycast for a little while longer.

P.L.S:  Piccolo is about to be explained.

Disclaimer:  It's a big one this time.  I don't own DBZ.  I do, however, own assorted gods and goddesses, as well as Octavia (_Amazon & Saiyan:  Consequences_) and both the versions Son Gohan within.  The Creation Angels, namely Kyuushi and Gorgandus belong to Maria Cline from her story _Normal Friends From Strange Places_, and saiyanarmor!Bra and Cami belong to Lisse and hail from _Second Chance_ and _A Road Less Traveled._  All are used with full permission.  Please don't use any of them without permission.

Mailing List/Discussion Group:  http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nadialist

Now that housekeeping is done with, enjoy!

A Saiyan Homecoming

by Nadia Rose

nadiarose3@hotmail.com

Chapter Eleven:  The Great Council

Miracles happened every day.  There was a Goddess in charge of miracles; her name was, appropriately, Miracle.  She was faintly humanoid in appearance, if you ignored the fact that she a.) glowed, b.) had wings, and c.) was just too perfect to be real.  She _was _Miracle after all, and she'd been very busy.

For the first time in Earth's recorded history—its mythical history even—the creatures that governed the Heavens, Hell, and All That Was were gathering together in one place.  That alone proved the very extent of Miracle's powers.  It was too much to ask that the meeting that was going to take place would be free of arguments, actual fights, and magical blows that would twist the fate of the Multiverse for years to come.  Not even Miracle was that good.

The designated meeting area was the traditional one, the Neverending Nebula, which as its name suggested, never actually ended.  During these meetings the gods liked to go as deep into the nebula as they possibly could to avoid eavesdroppers, as long as they weren't too far away from the cappuccino machine.  Shin stood on his podium of swirling light and watched all the gods that overlooked everything as they streamed in from all sides of the Neverending Nebula (yet another one of those things Shin didn't bother to ask about) to take their places in the Nebula, which obediently formed itself into amphitheater-style seating to accommodate them.

Shin sighed and shuffled his feet slightly.  There were a lot of gods, and his feet were starting to ache.

The major gods alone numbered more than the collective evil tyrants of the Multiverse, and the minors were more plentiful than stars in the sky.  In other words, there were _a lot _of gods.

They came in pairs too, in one of the Multiverse's odd inbuilt system of checks and balances, for each god there was an opposite somewhere to check that power.  The Goddess of Miracles' counterpart was the God of Mechanics, who was frantically reasoning with her that the probability of this meeting turning out well was in negative numbers.  It was a good thing Miracle had the patience of, well, a goddess.  Somewhere to Shin's left, the God of Subordination was yelling at his counterpart, the Goddess of Free Will, who had decided the prime vantage spot for this meeting would be the ceiling.  The ceiling also had easy access to the cappuccino machine.

Shin's attention was caught soon after by a pair of twin Nameks down below—the God of Fusion and the Goddess of Fission—who only became a typical asexual Namek when they fused.  Those two were quite the pair while not actually a pair; they were two halves of a whole.  While the Gods poured in, the Kais were returning from their trip to the beverage station.  The Four Directional Kais overlooked the living world while the Grand Kai, who was shamelessly flirting with the angel at his shoulder, overlooked the warriors of Heaven.

Behind them came perhaps the most powerful of them all next to Shin, probably even more powerful.  The four surviving Angels of Creation chatted amongst themselves before taking their places up high, overlooking the proceedings.  They would take little part in the actual discussion, but would listen and offer suggestions if needed in Shin's absence.

The room fell into silence with the clashing of Gorgandus' metal wings, and Kyuushi cast a scornful glance at a handful of minor gods who had ignored the signal.

The Supreme Ruler of Everything took a deep breath and began to speak.

"We would like to thank you for coming today," his quiet voice carried out across the sea of faces watching him.  "You have all been informed by either Proclamation or memo that we have chosen our successor."

Quiet.  They knew this well; Shin suspected they were already plotting against him.

"His name is Son Gohan, and he is a Halfling Saiyan from the planet Earth."

Murmuring.

Shin raised his voice to carry over it, a remarkable fact given the natural qualities of his voice and the sheer number of people he had to overwhelm.  There were advantages to being Supreme Kai.  "Do not let his race sway your opinions of him; Son Gohan is a man of integrity.  He is not a typical modern Saiyan."

More murmuring, but Shin ignored it.

"You will find copies of his individual attributes and accomplishments beneath your seats," he continued conversationally.  "Son Gohan _is _our chosen successor; after 15 years of strict training here in the Other Dimensions, he has proven himself worthy to begin the basic tests.  Your planning and tests are of your own choosing; by tradition we cannot interfere with their execution, so it is best if you test him to your satisfaction."

Shin looked out at the sea of faces again, watching the varying reactions across the crowd.  "Madam Chairwoman," he spoke softly to the woman standing by the door, "The podium is yours."

The Chairwoman, or the chosen arbitrator and voice of reason when things got hot and heavy, neatly climbed the podium to stand next to him and face the crowd.  "Thank you Supreme Kai," her dark head bobbed in a token show of respect.  "Now would you do me a favor?"

"Yes, Madame?"

"Get off my podium," she replied evenly, ready to get to work, "and take all the mortals, servants, Knights, and non-gods with you."

Shin nodded to her, and glanced out at the crowd, fixing his eyes on the handful of people who fit that category and leaving them unspoken summons.

The chair was less dramatic.  She pointed to each individually.  "You!  Out!"

There was a squawk of protest from, not surprisingly, the Goddess of Free Will.  "My cappuccino!"  The woman wailed, clutching at an almost empty-cup.  "I stayed up all night repairing a universe after a certain idiot," she glared pointedly at her rather sinister counterpart, "got through playing in it.  If I'm going to stay up for this, I _need_ caffeine!"

Her cry was echoed and supported by a great many gods, and Shin could see the gears in the Chair's head grinding.  He knew that she herself had a great fondness for some strange beverage called cola, and it too was being served at the cappuccino machine.  "Fine," she amended.  "The girls working refreshments can stay.  The rest of you, OUT!"  She paused, and bobbed her head again at him in an afterthought.  "Supreme Kai."

Shin smiled thinly, nodded at the mass of gods, and led the handful of mortals out just as calm as he had been when he'd entered.  Inside, however, he was smirking triumphantly.  For all their secrecy, he'd still outsmarted them.  It was mandatory that while the Supreme Kai was allowed to choose and train his own successor the gods themselves approved or rejected that candidate without his help.  They had become grumpy and discontent, too used to the liberties they were able to take now that there was only one Supreme Kai and not several.  Shin suspected that Gohan's tests were going to be designed for failure, so he'd broken a few rules himself and planted a few of his own people in the Neverending Nebula.

At the cappuccino machine, two young female demi-Saiyans sporting halos continued to prepare the vital beverage for the caffeine-addicted gods.  They also kept their ears on alert. 

* * * * * * * * * *

The little purple being known as Kaoishin dropped into his conformable desk chair, eyeing the spattering of creatures that were draped across various fixtures in his office.  His Knights.  Like CEOs had interns, professors graduate assistants, and football teams waterboys, Shin had his Knights.  They ranged from all over the Multiverse and were from all versions within it, but they answered to Shin and Shin alone.  They were his information and message network, his eyes and ears, and if he needed it, brute strength.  They were indispensable.  They were also damn annoying.

He didn't want to know how they'd gotten that horse up five flights of stairs.

Ignoring the monstrous four-legged beast standing where his couch had been that morning, the Kaoishin turned his gaze to his most trusted Knights, who were all from Earth.  Different Earths of course, or else he wouldn't have a man named Son Gohan in his office while his apprentice Son Gohan had just recently gone home.  But he did have a Son Gohan in his office who looked nothing like the other; the horse now serving as a couch was his horse, and the red-haired woman perched on the windowsill was his grandmother.

Who happened to be graphically promising Grand Kai all matter of rather…excruciating punishments if he ever tried groping her again.

"Octavia," he reprimanded patiently, "I don't think we need to hear about how you're going to replace his brain with his spleen in quite that much detail."

He was met by a pair of glowing golden eyes as the Amazon Queen turned up her nose at him.  "I could have done worse," she replied, fuming.  "That…that man is an abomination to the Kais.  He's worse than Roshi, and I had to practically beat him into the ground to keep his hands off me—I'm married to one of his students!"

Gohan looked up from plaiting his steed's mane to his fuming grandmother.  "It's just the Grand Kai.  When you get as old as he is, you're bound to be a little eccentric."

"Try senile, Gohan," Octavia snapped back, still vexed.

Gohan shrugged and went back to his braiding.  He'd been around Amazons a lot more than Shin had, and knew when not to pick a fight.  Shin generally followed his lead in when dealing with Octavia, and made a mental note not to use her to send messages to the Grand Kai again for a while.  He didn't think Octavia was strong enough to kill a Kai—and he wasn't intending on finding out soon.

Said woman propped her booted feet up on the windowsill again, frustrations apparently forgotten.  "I've been asked to check up on something," she told him, pulling her long hair loose from its bun so she could braid it.  "It appears that Piccolo's found himself a way back into the living the world."

Still working on his horse, Gohan grumbled.  "That was not my fault."

Octavia lifted an eyebrow.  "It was your doing?"

Gohan looked pointedly down at his horse's mane, pulling the coarse hair into tight braids.  "I was there.  I didn't say I did it."

Octavia planted a hand on one hip and managed to glare swords at her grandson.  "A person is restored to life against all the powers of the gods and you were there?  You've got explaining to do, Gohan."

The male Knight shrugged.  "I was depositing a few of those orcs back into hell when the ogres tried to get Yemma's counterpart out of her cell for the meeting.  She wasn't out long, but it was long enough to send a handful of people back to the living world."

Shin sighed.  He should have known.  Yemma's duty was to sort souls into their proper place in the afterlife; his counterpart's was the exact opposite—she put souls from the Other Dimensions back into the living one.  They tended to keep her contained, because given free reign, there would have been a lot more ghosts and resurrections than there already were.  It wasn't a good thing to upset the flow of the dead into the Next Dimensions.  Things got sticky when it did.  "How many did she manage to put back this time?"

"Couple of hundred," Gohan murmured.  "Only about ten with bodies, though."

Shin cocked an eyebrow.  "Do we know who those ten bodies are yet?"

Gohan shook his head.

"And why aren't you chasing them down and putting them back where they belong?"

Gohan narrowed his eyes and looked at him, flipping his ponytail over one shoulder.  "I'm not allowed in the living world.  I'm not that kind of Angel."

What passed as Shin's smile touched his lips.  "No, you're not.  You're a Knight, and you do what I need you to."

The Knight's of Heaven's answering grin spelt trouble in a big way.

Before anything more could be said, however, the door burst open and Shin's eyes and ears walked in.  Or rather, one of them walked in.  The other was nowhere in sight.

Bra Briefs, Saiyan armor and halo included, stomped beneath the horse's neck and swayed to a halt in front of Shin's desk.  Although she'd been barely four when a bomb had killed her, her body in the afterlife was appropriately that of an eighteen-year-old.  She had the personality of someone at least five times that age.  Bra was _always_ right, no matter who you were.

Giving her boss the patented Vegeta-Brief's-gaze-of-superiority look, she opened her mouth, and promptly changed all of Shin's plans.  "We have a problem."

Shin cocked an eyebrow at her.  "Where's Cami?"

Cami Son, who was, in a rather twisted sense, related to everyone in the room but Shin, was nowhere to be seen.  Considering she was as tall as Bra and probably twice as loud, this was nothing short of a miracle.

"She's part of the problem," Bra explained quickly.  "Cami, you can come out now."

"No I can't!"  A tiny voice called back faintly.  "I can't believe they did that!"

Bra rolled her eyes.  "Cami, they caught us!  What did you expect?  A pat on the head and a second chance?  They're gods for Kami's sake!"

"I wasn't expecting this!"  The tiny voice wailed back.

On the other side of the horse, Gohan's eyes were darting around.  Cami was his partner, and he was usually able to tell where she was at within a range of about five realms, but this had him confused.  He knew she was close, probably in the room judging from her ki, but nowhere in sight.  "Cami?"  He spoke softly.  "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?  What's wrong?"  The tiny voice got louder.  "I'll tell you what's wrong!"  Something zipped out from behind Bra and hurtled towards the male demi-Saiyan.  "I'm small, I'm eleven, and I look like TINKERBELL!"

A tiny little girl floated in front of Gohan's nose, all of six-inches tall.  The bright purple hair proclaimed her to be none other than the mysteriously hiding Knight, Son Cami.  Just shrunk.  And younger.  Instead of the roughly twenty-year old she had been, her body was now twelve at the most.  To go along with her new body, tiny glittering purple wings had been affixed to her back, and the drab tunic, tights and boot combo she normally wore had been replaced by something entirely too frilly for even Shin's taste.

Gohan, much to his credit, was able to contain his laughter.  Of course, Shin didn't think he'd ever heard this Gohan laugh.  The tall Knight merely stuck out his hand and let his now-tiny partner rest in it before she took a nosedive.  "Who did this to you?"

"The God of Cruel and Unusual Punishment," Cami sniffed, unaware that big crystalline tears were welling in her eyes.  "He turned me into a fairy!"

The tall Saiyan's face set.  If there was one thing that nobody did, it was mess with Gohan's family.  He couldn't stand to see any of them in pain, even if they weren't really related to him, which was the case with Cami.  The two shared the same surname, and the same father even, but came from two completely different universes.  "Do you want me to kill him for you?"

"You idiot!"  Cami bellowed, standing in his palm with a melodic twinkling and a burst of glitter.  "If you kill him, he can't undo me once my punishment is over!"

"Sorry, sorry," Gohan mumbled, eyeing his partner.  "What am I supposed to do with you now?  You can't exactly fight like that—and Phantom," he patted the horse with his free hand, "Is going to be very tempted to stomp on you."

"Gohan," Octavia remarked from the windowsill, "I suggest you get a pocket."

Bra dissolved into giggles.

Unofficial law of the Multiverse:  If there was one thing the Knights were it was their own self-contained sideshow.  Shin really ought to start selling tickets; he'd make a small fortune.

However appealing that thought was, he had more important things to do.  The gods didn't punish someone, especially one of his people, that badly without a reason.  He eyed Bra, who was idly polishing her halo while Cami vehemently insisted she wasn't living in anybody's pocket, let alone Gohan's.  "You said you were caught?"

Bra nodded, her amusement falling away like lead off a cliff.  "Yes."  Her eyes drifted back towards Cami.  "They caught her trying to scribble down a note on a napkin, then the enforcers got involved and," she gestured at the little demi-Saiyan pixie, "Poof!  Fairy-Princess Cami."

She sighed and plopped down on his desk, a very good indication that this was going to take a while.  "What they're planning to do—I think they must have broken every other law in the book."  She shook her head.  "They're…they're going to use people that are traditionally off limits in the testing."

Cami, who was now perched on Gohan's ear, nodded in agreement.  "Yes."  She pursed lips that looked suspiciously shiny—like they'd been glittered.  "They," she paused for a moment.

"They what," Shin questioned, seeing that Bra was no closer to speaking.

The two girls exchanged glances.

"They're going to use the Majin," Bra explained shortly.

Shin closed his eyes.  The situation was worse than he thought; he'd have to start taking countermeasures, and immediately.  It shouldn't have been this bad.  At all.  He was going to have to break a lot of rules but the gods, in using the Majin itself, had already broken them.  And when things in the Other Dimensions got bad the rules became agonizingly simple:  an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

He glanced up at Bra.  "You're staying here with me."  He glanced at the others, who were waiting grimly for their orders.  "Gohan, take Cami and start chasing down those spirits and bodies.  Start on my apprentice's world, because with our luck, they pretty much ended up there."

His dark gaze swiveled to the Amazon Queen, who was idly relacing her boots.  "Octavia, I want you to keep an eye out for things.  I'm not sure what's going on with Gohan down there, but I know that there've been heavenly hands interfering in it.  Just see what's going on for me, and then give Gohan a hand."

The Queen nodded.

Gohan swung up on his horse and Cami scrambled to his shoulder, making sure she got a good grip in his long hair.  He glanced over at his grandmother.  "Need a lift?"

Octavia finished tying her boots before she walked over to the horse and leapt up behind Gohan with a graceful spring.  As soon as all three were settled, Cami gave him an impish grin from her perch.  "We'll be back later.  Don't wait up!"

With a cluck and a slap of reins, Gohan spurred the horse into bounding towards the window, where it disappeared in a column of light.  Destination:  the Earth of the Kai-Elect, one Son Gohan.

Shin sat back in his chair and eyed the girl who was still making like a paperweight on his desk.  "All right Bra," he sighed, "I need to tell you everything you heard, and who said what, if you can remember that much."

The demi-Saiyan sniffed.  "Of course I can.  I _do _have a photographic memory."  She slithered off his desk to get comfortable in an armchair, where she promptly began to spill a tale that had previously existed only in the Supreme Kai's nightmares.

* * * * * * * * * 

While Shin was having major epiphanies over the state of affairs in Heaven, the group of warriors and friends clustered together in Orange Star General were also having epiphanies of a much more pleasant nature.  Thanks to some miracle that probably started with a certain green god, Bulma's Legal Department managed to get the transfer paperwork done in record time and the string of ambulances had arrived to transport the problematic patients back to the Capsule Corps hospital.  Of course there was the small problem of getting them through the human sea of reporters and bystanders clustered around the hospital, but a quick call to the local National Guard took care of that.  Juuhachi had offered, but Bulma didn't need any more lawsuits to deal with.

Their little section of hospital was filled to bursting with officials; doctors, nurses, administration and even a few of Videl's colleagues, who had mastered the art of intimidating the weak-of-character as easily as well as she did.  Barden was perched on the window, eyeing the big green man who had somehow managed to knock his Dad out of those horrible banana hallucinations.  Gohan was slowly falling into a deeper sleep, which was doing wonders for everybody's minds—and ears.

Bulma was trying to orchestrate the whole event, making sure everyone got the right place, but there was so much hubbub even her voice was insignificant.  She settled for storming downstairs to peek out at the ambulances and calling her father to check up on Bra.

Up in the hall Videl was waiting for the Doctors to approve Pan's release, which seemed to be taking a bit longer than it had for Goten.  The paramedics stood beside her, gurney at ready, to begin another mad dash out to the string of waiting ambulances.  After a few minutes the nurse led Pan, now back in her familiar red gi, was ushered out to the gurney.  The nurse helped her lie down, and patted her shoulder.  "We'll contact you with those test results, Miss…err…Girl."

Pan smiled, ignoring the admiring looks of the male paramedic.  "Thank you," she murmured in reply.

The nurse smiled again, pulled the sheet up over Pan's head, and motioned for the paramedics to start their run through the gauntlet.

Videl narrowed her eyes at the nurse.  "Test?"

"Oh, nothing major," the nurse replied as the elevator doors swung shut on the gurney.  "We just picked up a little anomaly in her blood and wanted to take a closer look at it."

Internally, Videl began to swear in such a fashion that even Marron, who had a mouth like a sailor's, would have been impressed.  After all these years she wasn't sure how different a Saiyan's or demi-Saiyan's blood was from that of a normal human, but the last thing she needed was to have some unwitting doctor stumble across it.  Externally, she plastered a smile at the nurse and began to search for Bulma, who could still scare any normal human out of anything.  "Shall we get on with the next?"

And so the others were catalogued and sent on, although the number of people in the hallway didn't decrease in the slightest, until only Trunks and Vegeta were left.  This posed a small problem as Vegeta could only be moved with great difficulty.  Videl happily enlisted Krillin, Yamcha, and Ubuu to help her out.

A woman with malt-colored hair and a rumpled lab coat sidled up to the wall and peered at the charts for several long minutes, taking a few notes on a pad she dug out of a pocket before going to help one of the nurses pick up the pieces of a mug that she'd just dropped to the floor.  Apparently the fact that the Prince had just promised mass-homicide if he heard another word about his infernal cast bothered her.

Smiling cheerfully at the terrified nurse, she carried the ceramic shards to the nearest trashcan and ducked into the elevator.  They'd gotten the funny man onto the gurney—the main show was over.

A few minutes later Bulma sighed in relief as the last of the ambulances disappeared down the road in the general direction of Western Capitol.  The horror of the past several hours was over.  She could go home, get some sleep, and decide what to tell the press in the morning.

Or at least that's what she thought.

Five ambulances left Orange Star General.  Only three made it all the way to Capsule Corps.

TBC….

Please Review!


	12. Life, the Multiverse, and Everything, Pa...

A/N:  Ok folks, new chapter time.  Sorry it took so long, but I'm fast closing in on the end of this story.  Depending on how long it takes me to develop a small part of the plot for the sequel, I can be done in as soon as five chapters.

This chapter was split into two because it was going to be too long otherwise, so I'm sorry if it seems confusing. Give me one more chapter!

In other random news, I'm looking for a beta for this story at the moment.  I've come to the conclusion that one would be exceedingly helpful.  I'm looking for someone who can check grammar, tell me when I'm getting confusing, and can get back to me within a couple of days.  If you're interested please email me/contact me via IM.

And because I'm lazy, I'm just going to say thanks for all the reviews, and not go through with individual reviewers at the moment.

Discussion group/update list:  

Disclaimer:  I don't own Dragonball Z or associated characters.  I do however, lay claims to the versions of Red, Rider, and various other OCs herein, and tinkerbell!cami, aka Pixie, belongs to Lisse.

A Saiyan Homecoming

by Nadia Rose

nadiarose3@hotmail.com

Chapter 12:  Life, the Multiverse, and Everything:  Part 1

Bulma Briefs counted the ambulances.  _One…two…three._  Blinking, she counted them again.  Three.  Something in the back part of Bulma's mind told her that this could turn very nasty.  There were three ambulances.

There were supposed to be five.

It was impossible to just lose two whole vehicles, but with the kind of history her family had accomplishing the impossible, it was a certain probability that not only had she lost the ambulances, but they somehow would have created a massive traffic incident or gone through a portal into a different timeline.  There were times when Bulma really wished she knew who had decided they deserved such odds, so she could drag them into the street and shoot them.  Repeatedly.

With a resigned sigh, she decided to see who she'd have to track down, and stomped over to the first ambulance.  A spiky-haired man was happily describing his kids to the paramedics._  Son Goten—check._  The second one contained Gohan, Piccolo, and two slightly-frantic paramedics.  _Kai-Elect and accompanying dead man—check._  The third contained a peacefully resting Pan, who occasionally growled a warning at the ogling paramedic beside her.  _Moody daughter-in-law—check._

_Missing—incapacitated mate and mute son._

Bulma blinked as her mind processed that thought, then groaned.  She'd be lucky if the planet was still around by nightfall.  Of all the things to happen, it had to be those two who'd disappeared.  Glancing around, her gaze landed upon the closest-available person who she knew could sense anything.  She gave him a sweet smile, refusing to panic with the same stubbornness that had won her the heart of a Prince.  "Ubuu?"

The dark-skinned man looked up from where he was politely holding the door open for the Paramedics.  "Miss Bulma?"

"C'mere," she beckoned.  "I have a job for you."

* * * * * *

Twenty minutes later Ubuu was perched in the air halfway between Satan City and Western Capitol, his ki senses stretched to their outmost.  Of all of them, he probably had the most sensitive mental "ears;" he could pinpoint the smallest things, determine strengths, and even in the case of people or creatures he knew well, moods.  The most experienced of them in the art of tracking and hunting, he'd "volunteered" to go search, thanks to Bulma.  Beside him, Juuhachi had also "volunteered" to help.

With the sort of mood Bulma had been in, "volunteering" had been the wisest thing to do.

So they stood out in the sky, patiently avoiding the signs of the coming dawn, and waited.  Or rather, Juuhachi waited, and rather impatiently.  Not only had she been up longer than any of the others and been through a major fight, but she'd recently discovered all three of her grandchildren had been left with her darling twin.  And she just didn't trust Juunana with the twins and Juugo.  Only _she _could corrupt her grandchildren.

Ubuu opened one eye and watched at her for a moment.  "Your breathing is quite loud, Mrs. Chestnut."

Juuhachi blinked.  She'd been designed to be silent.  Completely.  There was no way he could have heard her.  "You must have heard something else."

Her companion shook his head.  "Aside from the hawk about 100 meters in that direction," he pointed, "a few ground animals and livestock, you and I are the only creatures for a few kilometers."  He gave her a polite smile.  "I have very good hearing."

"Indeed," she muttered, extending her own enhanced senses to check for life forms.  They were just as good as hers, actually.  In a rare effort to instigate conversation, the android, who had softened over the many years, cocked her head and scrutinized the young man before her closely.  "Is that an aftereffect of merging with Buu?"

"No," Ubuu said softly.  "My father taught me."

"Your father?"  Juuhachi was always curious to hear about people who had parents.  Neither she nor Juunana could remember anything about who they had been before, and Krillen didn't like to talk about his parents.

"Mmmm," Ubuu swiveled in the air to face another direction, bringing his ki senses up to another level to listen to something suspicious.  "He was a martial artist—of a sort.  Much different from you and the others.  He taught me how to _listen_."   He cocked his head for a moment, looking very much like a full-grown child in light of the rising sun.

"What was his name?"

"Jabari."  A long pause filled the air between him.  "And he's the reason I work on the Preservation.  Wandering poachers killed him for trying to stop them from slaughtering our cattle for bait."  

Ubuu, Juuhachi knew, was a quasi-Park Ranger on some big Reservation for endangered species somewhere in Africa, where he'd spent the last several years hunting down poachers.  Now she understood why.  "I'm…sorry."

"Don't be," the man displayed a mouthful of very white teeth in a content smile.  "That was what Father did—he was a defender."  Before she could even think about responding, Ubuu opened his dark eyes and pointed off in the distance.  "They're over that way.  And there are two kis there—I've never felt anything quite like them.  We'd best be careful."

Juuhachi gave him a slow, sweet smile that would have made anybody who knew her scuttling in the opposite direction for cover.  "Shall we go visit?"

Ubuu bowed courteously to her, then zipped off after her towards the strange kis in the distance.

Life was about to get a little more complicated.

Ubuu pinpointed the kis to a ramshackle little dairy barn not too far away from where they'd been searching, one of the large windows covered with a board to keep the cold from coming in, but there were several others that were open.  Juuhachi wrinkled her nose at the rather…unpleasant aroma that pervaded the air, but Ubuu didn't notice it and crept stealthily over to the back door to listen carefully, because he could hear voices inside.  After a moment, Juuhachi joined him.

"Restraint!  For the last time, you can't tie Vegeta up!"

"Why not?  That's what I do."

"You can't tie up a man in a bodycast, Restraint.  That's redundant."

"But you can't effectively kidnap anyone without restraining them, Importance," the second voice mocked.

"He's in a bodycast, Restraint.  He's not going anywhere.  You just have a bondage fetish."

The second voice sniffed.  "And what if I do?  At least I don't have to write everything down in triplicate so I don't forget it by the time I get where I'm supposed to be going."

The first voice hissed in reply.

There was a moment of silence between the two arguers while Juuhachi and Ubuu wondered exactly who they were dealing with.  It didn't last long.

"Oh EWW!  I've stepped in dung!  Why, by Shin's silver hair, did you have to choose this-this-this…"

"Barn?"

"This…barn…as our hideout?"

"The handbook Stealth gave us said to choose something isolated.  And unfrequented.  And there's a bucket and a hose over there, if you want to wash your shoe off."

Vegeta's mocking laugh sounded from inside.  "You can't even kidnap us properly!"

"Oh shut up!"  The two female voices shouted back in unison.

"Gag him."  The voice who mentioned the handbook ordered.

"With pleasure."  There were a few muffled noises from inside.

"Damn Saiyans.  They really are too arrogant for their own good.  I have no idea what Shin sees in them…"

"Shin likes brawn, not brains.  Just look at his Knights.  They're a walking freak show."

A snort of protest sounded from somewhere behind Juuhachi and Ubuu, but they didn't notice.  Although how they failed to notice the flash of light as a horse the size of a small truck appeared out of nowhere carrying three strangers was another one of the great mysteries of the multiverse.  That or the gossiping kidnappers were just too interesting.  Either way, the two living humans had no idea that they were being watched.

"You better not say that out loud," the one they'd mentally tagged as Restraint warned.  "I hear Shin still has friends in higher places."

"Oh please?  The angels?  He could string any of them along by the nose.  They're like puppies!"

Juuhachi raised an eyebrow.  Angels, Knights…and the Supreme Kai?  Was this some sort of secret code?

"It's a good thing the Angels are too preoccupied to be listening in on this," a male voice, remarkably similar to Gohan's, came from behind him.  "Godlings or not, those two wouldn't stand up against them for long."

Ubuu and Juuhachi whirled to find themselves at eye level with a smooth black muzzle the size of Juuhachi's entire hand—the head attached to it was as big as her torso.  A massive draft horse the color of midnight was standing proudly behind them, thick forelock draping over fiery eyes as he watched them and waited.

It wasn't the horse that surprised them, though.  It was the passengers.  A man, a woman, and a pixie were arranged on the horse.  And the man had Gohan's face.  His hair was flat and limp like a human's, and he was wearing clothing that had gone out of fashion centuries ago, but his face was Gohan's.

"Forget the angels," a tiny voice snapped from the area of his shoulder.  "They called us a walking freak show!  I am not a freak show, Gohan!"

The man turned his head to peer off to the side, where what looked like a pixie was hovering an arm's length from his shoulder, tiny wings beating furiously.  "Of course not Cami," the man who had Gohan's face _and_ Gohan's voice soothed.  "You just have…unusual circumstances."

"Cut the chatter," a third woman ordered, swing her booted leg over the horse's rump to drop to the ground.  "We need to get them back to their dimension before they get bored and start meddling.  There's already enough Otherworldly interference in this universe, and personally, I'm not going to be the one mopping up once this is all over."  Her hair reminded the two earthlings strongly of fire, and, much to her surprise, the boots she wore seemed to be made of it.

Eyes the color of a predatory bird peered at them for a moment.  "My companions and I have been sent by Shin to help you rescue your friends."

"Well, not really," the pixie murmured.  "He said to find out where the…"

She was silenced by a finger placed over her mouth.  "Sssshhhh, Cami."

Red, for lack of a better name, rolled her eyes at the pair.  "It's all right.  They're just godlings.  We should—"

"Ouch, Cami!  That hurt!"

With a sigh, Red swiveled around.  "What?!"

The man pointed to the pixie.  "Cami _bit _me!"

She stuck her tongue out in reply.

Ubuu and Juuhachi exchanged glances, and started wondering which mental institution this crew had broken out from.  And where they'd stolen the horse.

"Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted," the woman continued, ignoring the clamor of her companions, "We should be able to handle them without a problem."  Without pausing to consider anything more, she planted the sole of one boot into the door, kicking it open with much splintering of wood.

Startled exclamations from inside were quickly cut off when the horse charged past them inside, steel shoes ringing on the concrete floor.  A few more shrieks followed, and not being fighters that wanted to be left behind, Ubuu and Juuhachi ducked through the door.

The sight that met their eyes would have been comical, had they not been so confused.

Two women, at least creatures that were faintly female in appearance anyway, were cornered between two cows standing in the byre, facing down the man on the horse.  They looked like belonged in a dairy barn about as much as a cow belonged in downtown Satan City.  The woman in front, who wore something that made Ubuu have to fight back a blush, was wielding a milking stool at her attackers.  The creature behind her, whose skin was a deep green several shades darker than a Namek's, was swatting at the pixie-girl with a thick book.

Ubuu and Juuhachi only paused to blink at the strange sight for a second before hunting for Vegeta and Trunks, who were, as far as they could tell, tied up in the milking room.  Their kis felt angry—but they weren't hurt.

"Knights," the woman with the stool hissed.  "How did you find us?"

The man on the horse, Juuhachi had mentally dubbed him Rider, shrugged.  "Luck, I suppose."

Red, who was standing on the ground beside him, snorted.  "There's no such thing as luck.  Look," she addressed the women, "You're not supposed to be here, and everybody knows it.  Just come easy, and we won't have to hurt you."

"Never!"  Green-girl shrieked, dropping her book and ducking away, intending to run for the door.

The pixie was faster.  Swiveling on one dainty heel, she collected her hands to one side in a familiar pose and began to chant.  "Ka…me…"

"Um, Cami," Rider commented, never taking his eyes off of the other woman, "You might not want to do that."

"Ha…me…."

"Cami!"

"HA!"

Instead of the ki-beam they'd expected, a steady stream of what looked like _flowers_ shot out of her hands and bounced harmlessly off the back of the retreating woman.

The Pixie-girl, whose wings were leaving a stream of glittering dust behind her, wailed in disgust.  "They replaced my ki with _tulips?_  What's next?  Do I have to start granting wishes and turn pumpkins into carriages?"

"Hmmm," Rider deadpanned.  "Maybe we ought to find you some dragonballs.  Or a magic wand."

The little girl swelled up, preparing to yell at Rider in a fashion that seemed somehow familiar, completely forgetting about the escaping kidnapper.  Ubuu phased out and grabbed the green woman by the back of her dress, if what she was wearing could be called a dress, and drug her back over to the others.  She wasn't really that strong.  Aside from the pointed toe of a shoe connecting rather painfully with one of his shins, she didn't do a thing to him.

"Let go of me…you….mortal."  Even a simple word could be made a slur.

Sliding into work mode, Ubuu discarded the politeness that usually was his mantra.  "Your name?"

Moving quickly, Red dove and caught the other woman by the wrist, neatly incinerating her stool with a quick ki-blast.  "C'mon," she murmured, dragging her away from her spot between the munching cows, "this party's over."

"You have no right to do this to me!"  Green-girl shrieked, attempting to pull away from Ubuu, who stared at her dispassionately.

"What gave you the right to kidnap my friends?"  She stared at him for a moment, then pulled herself up to her full height, which put her head on a level with his chin.  "I," her chest puffed up importantly, "am the Goddess of Important News.  I've a message for Son Gohan, and I had to get his attention somehow."

"Kidnapping the Saiyan Princes will do that," Juuhachi remarked drolly, "but not in the way you wanted to.  Now where are they?"

The goddess, if she really was such a thing, stared back at her with pale pink eyes.  "Not until I see Gohan."

"I'm right here," Rider remarked.

"Not you," she snapped back.  "The Kai-elect!"

Ubuu blinked, and exchanged yet another glance with Juuhachi.  They'd officially landed in Wonderland.

Red snorted. "He's indisposed."  She glanced at the woman she held tightly by the wrist.  "And you are?"

"The Goddess of Restraint."

"Ooooh," Red murmured.  "The one with the bondage fetish."  She shook her head.  "Well, you can explain what you're doing here to Shin.  In his office."

"You can't take us!"

"I can't?"  Red shook her fiery head and gestured with her free hand, drawing circles in the air.  A moment later golden ki oozed out of nowhere, falling into the shape she'd just drawn.  Another flick of her wrist sent the ki-manacles around Restraint's wrists, where they tightened.  "I really don't think you're going anywhere."

Restraint fumed.

As soon as Red had left Restraint, Rider (Son Gohan?) reached down and hauled her up behind him on the horse.  Red stood in front of Ubuu's captive and held out one hand.  "Give me the message, and I'll take it to the Kai-elect."

"You're a Knight," the green-skinned goddess snapped.  "Why should I trust you with something so important?"

"Because as a Knight I am honor bound to serve the Kaoishin.  Or his apprentice.  As his messenger I could be severely punished for not delivering a message to either or them if I knew of its existence.  Now," she extended the hand, "give me the message."

Paper dropped into her hand with a definitive rustle.

"Thank you," Red snapped, and wrapped another set of ki manacles around her wrists before shoving her up to Rider on the horse.  "Take 'em to Shin.  Cami and I will see to it that the others are freed and returned."

Rider tossed her a casual salute.  "Yes Ma'am."

A tug on the reins and the jangle of spurs sent the horse into motion, and Ubuu and Juuhachi watched, wide-eyed, as it disappeared into a column of light.  As soon as either of them regained control of their conscious thought processes, there was a lot of explaining to be done.

Red snagged Pixie out of the air, who was still fuming about the fact that her favorite attack was now a parade of flowers.  "Enough, Cami," she murmured, dropping the paper into the pocket of her long-tailed jacket.  "It's over.  They're gone."

"I'm a Pixie!"  The girl wailed.

"You are."

"But I'm supposed to be a demi-saiyan!"

"I suggest you deal with it," Red replied, before turning to the two.  "I think Vegeta and Trunks are in the milking room.  I'll help you get them back to Capsule Corps."

"Who are you," Juuhachi demanded bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"My name's Octavia," Red introduced herself with an enigmatic smile.  "I used to live here on Earth before I died, but that's a long story."  She tugged the door to the milk-room open.  "I'll explain once we get to Capsule Corps, because I only want to have to do it once, and I'll need Gohan's help."

Pixie snorted.  "You'll let him do the explaining, you mean."

Red—Octavia, rolled her golden eyes.  "They'll believe him more than me.  Now let's get moving, before I have to destroy something."

"Yes Ma'am!"  Pixie giggled and eyed the two Saiyans—one of whom was liberally wrapped in duct tape.  "That's going to hurt coming off," she giggled softly.  "And you can't say anything, either!"

Trunks stared down at her, too confused to say anything even if his jaw hadn't been wired shut.

It was going to be an interesting trip.

TBC…..

Please review!


	13. Life, the Multiverse, and Everything, Pa...

A/N:Ok, folks, here it is.  Much sooner than I was expecting, too.  I really didn't want to have to do mass explaining this way, I feel it's the mark of a bad author, but I got myself trapped into doing it without realizing it.  I know this is a lot of information to process, but I'll probably reiterate things once or twice so they might become more clear.  Thanks also go out to Johnny Rage, who is patient enough to be my guinea pig and let me know when I'm not being clear about things.

On other random note, thank you all for sticking with me on this one.  We'll be getting back to the plot and weird humor shortly.

If you want to be notified when I post new chapters, or answer my occasional pleas for help, the yahoo group that I use as a mailing list can be found at:

This is the **_only _**way I do update alerts.

I have a challenge for all of you readers:  I'm wondering how many people are actually reading this far—even those who lurk, so if can stand my writing long enough to make it to the end of the chapter, drop me a line!  Reviews are the only reward I get for writing this—because I was practically to the point of pulling my own hair out once or twice over the course of this chapter.  Let me know my impending baldness was worth something!

Now, because I feel bad for being lazy, review responses:

Otepoti:  thankees.

Darcey:  Welcome!  And thanks!

Panny-chan:  Ooooh, cookies.  Mmmmm.  Did I update fast enough for you this time?

Calen:  I'm sorry you're confused, but my chapters require a full reading to fully appreciate what's going on.  Just skimming over them hides certain details, like the fact that Gohan was released from the hospital with pan and the others.

Android 71:  Ah, a loyal reader.  Yes, it's going to be explained.  Read on!

Jenelf:  Thanks!  I have to go find a pin to deflate my ego, before it gets to be as big as Vegeta's now.  *wanders off*

Random Dent:  *giggles* Yes.  The Hitchhiker's guide is my guide for writing humor.  Hence the utter chaos—but it'll all work out in the end.  (btw, love the name)(and 42!)

David:  Yup.  I'm a farm kid, meaning duct tape can solve anything from cracked windows to use as emergency bandages.  And thanks!

Stayblue:  Here's some more

Disclaimer:  I don't own DBZ, but I do own assorted OCs in this chapter, with the exception of tinkerbell!cami, who belongs to Lisse, and is used with permission.  Oh, and the definition of Hermes comes from _Classical Images and Insights:  Mythology,_ my current reading-for-pleasure book.

A Saiyan Homecoming

Chapter 13:  Life, the Multiverse, and Everything, Part 2

The first indication anybody had that the wandering patients had returned was the telltale thump of something hard hitting the ground outside the door followed by a low moan and a giggle.  The second was Vegeta's guttural cursing, but the first probably would have been enough.

Son Barden had ever so helpfully appointed himself lookout, as everyone else was involved in either getting the other refugees settled in appropriate bedrooms, or keeping certain wives from going out and searching personally.  Being almost eight, however, he didn't have the endurance of an adult, and had eventually retreated to curling up on the couch to wait, and somebody, probably Yamcha, had taken pity on the boy and covered him with a blanket.

He was dozing soundly, so it was a good thing the odd little party of rescuers had been generous enough to remove Vegeta's gag.  Sliding off the couch, he stumbled over to the door and looked through the tiny window next to it.  And promptly rubbed his eyes before looking again.  He must not have been awake yet.

Apparently he was; there was still a woman with boots that were on fire and a pixie standing outside with Ubuu, Juuhachi, and the Saiyans.

Forgetting that they were probably waiting for somebody to unlock the door, Barden, being the boy he was, had to go get somebody to second this amazing discovery.  He wanted to ask his father, because Gohan was sure to know at least what sort of creatures those were, but the big green Namek was guarding his room, and Barden didn't know him.  So instead he padded into the kitchen, where his mother was trying to engage his barely-restrained older sister in conversation to keep her from going to search herself.

"Mom!  Panny!  Mr. Ubuu and Ms. Juuhachi are back, but there's a strange lady and a pixie with them!"

Videl and her daughter looked up in one movement, but their reactions were completely different.  Videl, having long served in the law-enforcement business, was apt to shoot off into a rapid-fire interrogation about exactly what he had seen, how well he could describe it, and if they seemed dangerous.  Pan, on the other hand, had something entirely different on her mind.  She thunked her mug back onto the table so hard it broke and gave her beloved little brother an exasperated glare.  "Did they find Trunks?"

Barden had to stop to think about this, but luckily his brain was a bit like a massive sponge.  It soaked up more than he was aware it did, and was able to supply him with an answer.  "Yes—except he's wrapped up in duct tape.  Like a mummy."  Then, being the small boy that he was, he proceeded to tell his mother all about the strange lady with the fire-boots and the Pixie.

Pan, whose patience had disappeared when one of the paramedics had gotten a little too friendly about halfway down the drive, growled at her brother.  "Did you open the door?"

"Uh...no?"

Mumbling about absent-minded brothers who had no common sense, Pan pushed away from the table and went to see what was going on.  Not wanting to unleash her daughter's temper onto some poor unwitting souls, Videl followed, absently listening to Barden's descriptions as he trotted along behind them.

Pan reached the door first and wrenched it open, not even bothering with the lock.  Videl winced and made a note to herself to apologize to Bulma for the small piece of wall that was still attached to the front door, despite the fact it was wide open.  Barden darted between his mother and sister to get a closer look at the strange people, not noticing the dazed looks on Ubuu's and Juuhachi's faces.  The booted lady was holding onto Trunks, who was standing on his own two feet, despite the fact he must have had six layers of duct tape wrapped around his knees.

Pan promptly glomped her darling husband, clinging tightly.  "What happened?"

Trunks blinked.

Reality, more specifically the fact that Trunks' jaw was wired shut, came rushing back, and Pan turned to Ubuu for an answer.  Videl stepped closer as he started to explain what he knew.

Barden tapped the booted lady on the arm as politely as possible.  She turned to look down at him, a smile spreading across her lips.  "Can I help you, Barden?"

The young demi-Saiyan blinked.  "How do you know my name?  And are your boots real?" 

The woman's smile flickered as she fought back a laugh.  "Of course I know your name, your father talked about you all the time.  And as for the boots, you're a smart boy.  Have you ever heard of Hermes?"

Barden nodded and slid into textbook mode; he was very smart, and unlike his father at that age, he didn't have to be pushed into studying.  "Hermes was a Greek God, Mercury to the Romans, patron of travelers, merchants, gamblers, highwaymen and thieves.  He was also messenger for the other Gods—he wore," he eyed the boots, "winged sandals."

The woman nodded and smiled at him.  "I have a secret."  She leaned down close to his ear and whispered, "I stole his sandals."

Barden looked again, and sure enough, the boots had begun to look less like boots and more like lace-up sandals with wings.  Awe crossed his face, and he gazed up at her.  "You know _Hermes?_"

"You meet a lot of different people in my line of work," she patted his shoulder.  "Ask your dad about some of the people he's met sometime.  You'll be surprised."

"Cool," Barden murmured, awe-struck.  "Do you know any other gods?"

The woman chuckled.  Videl snagged her son by the shoulder and pulled him away.  "Barden," she scolded lightly, "you shouldn't be bothering the…" she glanced questioningly at the woman.

"Knight," she supplied helpfully.  "My name's Octavia, and that," she pointed at the Pixie, who was perched on Vegeta's body cast, "is Cami."

The little girl looked up and waved, then went back to skipping across the tie-dyed body cast, leaving trails of fairy dust in her wake.  She plopped down on Bulma's ki-inhibitor (just the perfect size for a pixie-chair) and sighed, glancing sadly at Vegeta.  "Look," she pointed forlornly at the trail of footprints across the cast where she'd danced.  "I leave footprints now.  Glittery ones even."  Apparently this was the worst possible thing that could happen to her.  Ever.

Vegeta growled at her.  "Get off me you…creature."

"Oh thanks," Cami bellowed, sounded remarkably like a tiny Bulma.  "I rescue you from godlings and you insult me!  You never change, Vegeta."  She huffed and twitched her wings in annoyance, sending a fresh wave of dust over herself and Vegeta's cast.  "Hmmm…" she mused, then glanced wickedly at Vegeta.  "I wonder how much of this stuff I have to spread around."

"Cami!"  Octavia snapped, snatching the little girl by the wings and shoving her in one of the voluminous pockets of her white coat and buttoning it shut.  "No torturing!"

A muffled whine of protest emanated from her pocket and it shook in reply as Cami's visions of a glittering tie-dyed Vegeta were promptly squashed.

Pan blinked, then gently tugged at the duct tape wrapped around her husband, starting to peel it off.

"Anyway," Octavia continued smoothly, as if the little interruption had never taken place, "I need to speak to Gohan.  He has a message."

Videl immediately became suspicious.  "Why should I trust you?"

"Because she works for Shin," Gohan murmured from where he'd been leaning against the doorway for the past couple of minutes.  "And she's family."

Videl blinked.

Gohan smiled reassuringly at her, moving to run his hand through his hair before he remembered they were both in casts.  Sighing, he glanced at Octavia.  "Does he need me back already?  I've only been home three days."  He frowned.  "Has it been three days?"

"I think so," his wife replied, not relinquishing her grip on their son's shoulders.  "And how is she family?

"I'll explain later."  He glanced at the woman.  "What's going on?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, although I imagine Shin would like to know how you managed to break both of your arms.  There was a little outbreak from out there," she tugged her chin upwards.  "Yemma's counterpart managed to release some souls and about ten bodies."

"And he sent you to track them down and send them back," Gohan finished, then glanced back up at the sky in exasperation.  "At least he sent a human."

Octavia's pocket jerked again, and Cami shot out of it, hovering in front of his face.  "And me!"

Gohan stared for a moment.

Then he laughed.

"Ooooo!"  Cami crossed her arms and fumed in Pixie fashion, quivering while bells tinkled somewhere in the background.  

"Sorry." Gohan spluttered.  "It's just that…how did that happen?"  

Cami lifted one shoulder absently and peered at the space behind Gohan.  "Bra and I got caught doing something we shouldn't have been.  I took the blame for both of us.  And does she owe me."  She sniffed delicately.  "Do you sense something?"

Gohan blinked as Octavia snapped into full alert, peering at the area behind him with her golden eyes, before he shook his head.  "I've still got tranquilizer aftermath—I couldn't sense anything right now if it were standing right behind me."

The red-haired woman snorted.  "That much is obvious," she replied wryly, and glanced at Cami.  "Do you think we can handle it?  Or do you want to wait for Gohan?"  She paused for a moment.  "Your partner Gohan."

"Considering my ki-blasts could stock a florist's shop, I think we'd probably better wait."

Octavia nodded.

Somewhere inside behind Gohan, an entire coffee table was flipped over inside, although there wasn't anything close to it.  Bulma poked her head out from where she had been getting yet another cup of coffee after checking on Bra yet and blinked.  "What was all of that about?"  She marched over to stand next to Gohan.  Cami's face brightened, and she settled down on the top of the woman's head.  Bulma eyed the girl, then the people arrayed on her doorstep.  "Anybody care to explain?"

"I'd better," Gohan murmured.  "But…this is going to take a while.  Is everybody up?"

On cue, Pan, who was _still_ unwinding her mate, finally got to where the tape pressed against bare flesh.  Not even thinking about, she tugged.

Trunks screamed.

Well, as much as a man who had his jaw wired shut _could_ scream.

Bulma winced and rubbed at her ears.  "If they weren't, they are now."

Pan grimaced and took the apologetic hand her mate offered her and rose from where she'd fallen backwards onto her rear when he'd jerked.  "Sorry!"

Trunks gave her his saddest look, and Vegeta snorted.  "Quit your whining, brat.  You've been through worse than that before you could walk!"

Trunks glared at his father, and continued to try to milk sympathy from Pan, who was only too happy to provide it.

Gohan grimaced and ignored the scene as his daughter hung all over the man he'd always thought of as a second younger brother.  He'd deal with _that_ later.  "Why don't we all just go inside, so I can get started?"

After a mass exodus and shuffling as everyone got themselves comfortable, Gohan opened his mouth to begin.  He didn't get past the first syllable when the broken door flung open again, revealing Octavia and the man Juuhachi and Ubuu had taken to calling Rider, minus the horse.

Chichi blinked and fixed her eyes on Octavia's face.  "Mother?"

The red-haired woman smiled gently and bowed her head.  "It's good to see you again, Chi-chan."

Goten peered curiously at the haloed woman, absently shifting the small girl that had settled on his lap into a more comfortable position.  "You're my grandmother?  But…" he glanced between her and his mother.  "You and Mom don't look anything alike."

"The people where I am from are very diverse," Octavia returned easily.  "Your mother looks almost exactly like my mother, except she has her father's hair and eyes.  Human inheritance is not as narrow as that of Saiyans."

"Oh," Goten replied.  "Well, it's nice to meet you."

Octavia bowed politely.  "The same to you, young Goten."

After they had all absorbed this rather…interesting information, Gohan cleared his throat.  "Okay, everybody here?  I only want to have to do this once."

There was a murmur of assent and, somewhere across the room, a light armchair overturned.  Rider and Octavia exchanged pointed glances, but remained standing on either side of Gohan.

Without thinking about it, Gohan assumed his Professor-pose, something he hadn't used in a long time and absently tried to settle his glasses, only to be inhibited by the fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses and that both of his arms were a bit…immobile.  "Well, as all of you know, the Supreme Kai approached me when Barden was a baby and offered me a position as one of the lost Supreme Kais.  I couldn't tell him no," he glanced pointedly at Videl, remembering the long discussions they'd had over the matter, "and my training started two years ago."

He took a deep breath.  "I'm not allowed to reveal too many specifics about some things, but the biggest thing I need to explain is that time moves differently in the Afterlife, Heaven, the Next Dimension, Ano'yo, whatever you'd like to call it.  Only two years went by here, but it was fifteen for me."

"So how old are you now Gohan," Krillin ribbed, unable to resist.

Gohan thought for a moment.  "I'm fifty-three.  I think—it could be three or four years in either direction.  Time's not real easy to keep track of out there—the calendar's different, and synchronizing them is next to impossible."

From her spot in the armchair with Goten's son cuddled in her lap, Chichi blinked and connected a few of the odd statements that Gohan had come out with in the hospital, and was only far too aware that the already small gap in their ages had been drastically shortened.  Probably down to about a year, if Gohan's calculations were right.  A part of her protested that her baby couldn't be just a year younger than her, but another part of her reminded that if she hadn't had him so young, it wouldn't have been so bad.

"Anyway," Gohan continued, "my training was rather…diverse.  I did some temporary Guardian work on planets, defeated a few armies, learned how the gods operate in general…oh," he remembered suddenly with a lash of the tail he hadn't had two years ago, "I learned Instant Transmission—or rather, what Instant Transmission is a variation of."

"Really?"  Barden's interest was sparked.

Gohan nodded.  "Yes.  It's called Dimensional Transmission—and it's not just limited to the same universe the way IT is."

Silence.

"The same _universe_, Gohan?"  Bulma was skeptical.  "Is that why he looks like you?"  One hand extended to Rider, who was making faces at Juugo in Chichi's lap to amuse him.

Gohan glanced at the man, who had both of his eyes crossed, nose wrinkled, and mouth pulled into something that might have been a cross between a scowl and a grin.  "Er…I'm getting to him."

He frowned for a moment and paced the length of their little sitting alcove, trying to figure out how he wanted to explain this next…step.  Parts of it were not going to be pretty.  His eyes landed on the old faded picture from around the time of Cell on the wall, and the purple-haired man it contained.

Gohan seized the example and wondered why he hadn't thought of it before.  "Well, take Mirai Trunks.  He came back in time to stop the androids from happening, sorry," he glanced at the twins, "but he didn't manage it.  He created an alternate timeline, right?"

Bulma nodded.

"Well, he didn't really create so much as an alternate timeline, but an alternate universe."  Gohan waited for that to sink in for a few moments before he continued.  "Think of time like a rope.  Every time someone, like Mirai, goes back in time to change something—or even just a single decision is changed or an event happens differently—the strand of the universe is split into two different strands.  It's not the same universe, it's created a different one, but they're still both part of the rope."  He grimaced.  "That's a really simplified version…but it should work for what you need to know.

"Now…imagine all of the decisions or events that, theoretically, could have gone different, like Planet Vegeta never having been blown up, Frieza never coming to Earth, Grandmother not dying—or even dying at a different point in time.  It all creates another split in the strand—a new universe."

Barden, who, although nobody really suspected it yet, had an IQ that would rival Bulma's, nodded.  "But…all those changes…all those different universes…universi?"

Gohan smiled down at his son, proud of the mental steps the boy had just taken.  "That's right, Barry.  They're all still twined together—smaller strands in the much larger rope, which we call the Multiverse."

From his spot on the wall Piccolo nodded in approval.

Bulma sat for a long moment, mind working in about six different directions as she attempted to wrap her mind around the physics involved in that concept.  She glanced at the others, and attempted to look at Cami the Pixie, who was still sitting on top of her head, before staring at Rider.  "Right.  And that's why he looks like you.  He _is _you, isn't he?"

Gohan nodded, and glanced at Rider, who, except for the stark white tail and the limp human hair, was his clone.  "Do you want to?"

Rider shook his head.  "You're on a roll—don't let me put a stop in the path."

"All right," Gohan grumbled, and motioned to the man.  "This is Son Gohan."  Rider flicked them a casual salute.  "He's from one of the alternate universi."

"What happened to your hair?"  Chichi questioned.  "You could do with a haircut, too."

Rider stroked vainly at his waist-length hair.  "Er…I got struck by lightning when I was kid.  Was bald for a long time, and my hair finally grew back but it was flat."

Goten eyed the halo hovering above the man's head.  "How…how did you die?"

Rider's face darkened, but he shook his head and carefully schooled his features into a blank expression.  "I was nineteen.  Majin Buu attacked Earth, and I killed him.  Unfortunately, Babidi was determined to take me with him for killing his pet, and I," dark eyes flicked towards his mother.  "I died."

Chichi fought the urge to embrace her other son.  "Why didn't they wish you back?"

"They couldn't."  Rider shrugged.  "I was dangerous and unstable, and they made me a Knight, and you can't wish Knights back with Dragonballs."

Juuhachi finally pounced upon something she recognized.  "Knight.  Those two—creatures in the barn called you that.  What is that?"

Rider glanced at Gohan, who shrugged.  "Put 'em on.  We might as well do it right and get it over with."

Closing his eyes, Rider, the alternate Son Gohan, bowed his head and concentrated.  Wings burst from his spine. Two massive pinions arched above his head as he spread them, revealing an expanse of glossy black feathers broken only by a network of thick roping scar tissue.

Cami the Pixie abandoned her perch on Bulma's hair to sit on Rider's shoulder, sparkling brightly.

On the other side of Gohan, Octavia had also sprouted wings, except hers were made of some sort of luminous wisps of energy, tinted the color of her hair at pinions and trailing edge.  They were ephemeral—more like a trick of the light than something solid.  Barden longed to pop up and touch to see if they were real, but his mother's grip on his shoulder prevented him.

"Angels," Ubuu murmured softly.

Chichi gasped.  "Mother?"

Octavia smiled at her daughter and flexed her wings.  "It's all right, Chi-chan.  They're just part of being a Knight."

Gohan bowed politely to her.  "I'll let you take it from here."

His grandmother nodded and flipped her wings lightly onto her back.  "Well…the Knights of Heaven are creatures pulled from various universi and timelines when they die and put into service of the Kaios, but ultimately, they answer to the Supreme Kai." 

Cocking her head for a moment, she chose her words carefully.  "We serve…different functions.  Gohan—Knight Gohan, and Cami patrol the Borderlines between heaven and the living world.  There's another Knight I know who is an…Exterminator.  It's his job to take care of all the nasties who end up here in the living world.  Still others are enforcers—they keep the peace between Gods."

"And the wings?"  Bulma questioned.

Octavia's wings shimmered in response.  "They're…part of the uniform.  Kaioshin likes us to look official."  She shrugged, making them ripple.  "Personally, they're a pain…but that's just life."

"Oh," Bulma replied.  "Then what do you do?"

"You're a messenger, aren't you," Barden piped up.  "You have Hermes' sandals."

Octavia smiled, and Goten finally was able to parallel the strange woman to his mother.  "Very good, Barden.  I am."  She snapped her fingers.  "Which reminds me…"  she dug through her pockets and pulled out a scroll.  "You have a message, Gohan.  A pair of godlings decided that kidnapping Vegeta and Trunks would get your attention so they could give it to you."

Gohan grimaced and glanced at his hands.  "Tell me what it says?"

"This," she studied the scroll for a moment, "is a legal notice from the Great Council alerting you to the fact that the testing portion of your training has begun.  And will continue until they declare you fit or unfit to take your place at Shin's side as Supreme Kai of the…North."

"All right," Gohan didn't bat an eyelid.  "I wasn't expecting it to start so soon, but…" he shrugged.  "I'll handle it as it comes."

On Rider's shoulder, Cami bit her lip.

Videl finally found her voice.  "What's this about a test?"

Gohan shrugged.  "Shin only taught me the basics—that's all he's allowed to teach me right now, according to the rules.  The gods set up various…tests for me to go through to see what I've learned.  From what I've read, it will basically be a massive simulation of sorts—to see what I'll do in various situations."

"That's right," Rider affirmed.  "Most of the time you won't even know it's happening."

"Of course that's as long as they don't start letting demons up here out of hell to simulate a jail-break."

"Cami!"

"What, Gohan?  It's not _that_ unusual.  How many times did Cell and Frieza decide to rain on your High School parade in the Multiverse?"  Cami twitched her wings, making Rider sneeze at the cloud of glitter.

"Cami," Rider's voice was strained, "other-me is not in High School.  His daughter's not in High School anymore either."

Gohan gave them both a pointed stare.  "Right.  Not that Cell and Frieza would want to come here anyway.  We had a nice little _chat_ last time I went through Hell."

The gathered locals blinked at the almost savage expression the man they'd come to love as a slightly goofy Professor and friend wore.  It was so unlike the man that they had known that he might as well have been a different person.  This man was primal in a way Gohan hadn't been since Buu—more connected to his instincts than he'd ever been.

The Knights, however, didn't seem to think this was odd in the slightest.  "I hope it involved pointy objects."  The sort of scowl that decorated Cami's face was just…wrong.  Pixies shouldn't look that vengeful.

Gohan shrugged, becoming aware that he was about to lock himself in a conversation with the Knights none of his friends and family would understand.  "It involved a few ki blasts, yes," the mild-mannered Professor-face was back.

Cami smirked at him.  "Good."

With a groan and much pulling of sore muscles, Gohan sank into the armchair and eyes his friends and family, unaware that the Knights, still flanking him, were giving off the eerie image of footmen guarding their king.  He gazed at his family and friends, receiving more than one glossed-over look in reply.  "I know it's a bit much," his voice was gentle, "and I'd love to tell you that it only gets better, but…" he trailed off for a moment.

"It's only going to get worse," Octavia finished grimly.  "Life in the afterlife is complicated.  I know.  I've been there for decades and I still don't understand the way it all works."

Cami stood up on Rider's shoulders and stretched.  "Just remember that the Supreme Kai is the man to be up there.  If you're not sure what to do, drop his name.  A lot.  And if that doesn't work, I suggest screaming for Gohan as loudly as you can.  There aren't a lot of gods strong enough to take him on."

Vegeta, had he not been in the most gaudy body cast known to the human race, would have puffed his chest out in pride.  The Saiyan people had ascended to such strength that not even the gods would compete with them.  He didn't have an ego the size of a large planet, not really.

It was more the size of a solar system.

The glazed looks still hadn't disappeared, and Gohan decided it would probably be best if he didn't try to explain anything else.  When compared to other species, humans sometimes had a hard time with absorbing things.  He would explain things gradually as the years went by, because he probably had another good thirty years or more before he would be ready to take the title of Kai.  Until then, he could teach, and enjoy time with his family.

His eyes fell upon Goten's little girls, sitting on their father's lap.  When he'd left they'd been toddlers—now they were kindergarteners, and the little boy in his mother's lap had to be a nephew he hadn't met.  And Barry…Gohan promised himself to take his son fishing as soon as his arms healed.

Pictures on the walls behind the couch rattled, and one of the potted plants tipped over, spilling dirt onto Bulma's precious hardwood floors.

Gohan blinked and tried to stretch out with his senses, but tranquilizer backwash was still making him practically blind to anything he couldn't see, smell, hear, or touch.  "What was that?"

"Something we brought with us."  Octavia's voice was curt.

Cami snorted, assuming a rather odd pose on her partner's shoulder.  "You don't think Shin sent all of us just to deliver a message, did you?"

Even fifteen years or so of training in the afterlife hadn't managed to eliminate some of Gohan's more noticeable traits.  Occasional absolute cluelessness was one that Shin couldn't keep from popping up on occasion.  He blinked owlishly up at them, a look swiftly replaced by curiosity.  "I thought you three didn't get out of the Afterlife much.  What are you here for?"

His alternate self's answering slow smirk held a decidedly ruthless edge to it.  "A bit of spirit hunting."  He glanced at the area by the toppled plant.  "And it's about to begin."

Life, and the Multiverse in general, was about to get much more interesting.  Son Gohan was on the hunt, and woe betide anything that stood in his way.

Something in Bulma's house was about to find that out.  The hard way.

TBC…

Please Review!


	14. The Heavenly Knights of Ni

A/N:  Woohoo!  Here's more.  And for those of you reading my other fics, I haven't forgotten about them.  I'm just to the point in this that I know what happens from here to the end of the story, and I'm focusing mainly on this one so I can get it done.  And in random notes, I need to reclassify this, because it's not solely a comedy anymore.  Any suggestions?

The only way I run an update list is at the yahoo group, which can be found at:

Darkheart81:  Thanks!

Contrail:  Thanks!  It's great to know I've still got readers out there.  Yes, I was worried about the sudden exposition.  Everything else should come in teeny little bits and pieces from here on out.  And as for general strangeness, I think I can say I excel in that.  Thanks for reading!

Angel wings:  Thanks, and welcome!

Otepoti:  I need to get virtual cookies or something for my loyal reviewers.  Thanks!  And it's great to know you're still with me on this!

Random Dent:  *giggles*  You'll just have to see what's going on, won't you?  And yes, I'm not done with the Vegeta-torture yet, so that's very, very possible.

Brandon B:  Thanks!

Android 71:  Your review saved my hair.  Literally.  Thanks for sticking with me!

Andromeda of the Moon:  Thanks.  Yes, I like mythology, and I have a whole handful of gods and godlings that I use for inspiration.  And don't worry, I'm geeky too.

David:  Really?  Cool.  Anyway, I picked up a basic time-sense from Star Trek, and Michael Chricton's "Timeline" is the book I use for my time-machine model.  At least in a few stories, although that might not pop up in this one.

Nisaa_sd:  Thanks, and yes, Barden's one of my favorite characters too.  He's too cute for his own good.

Midnight Shadow:  Thanks.

Disclaimer:  As always, folks, I don't DBZ.  I do own various OCs with the exception of Kyuushi and her companions, who belong to Maria Cline, and tinkerbell!cami, who belongs to Lisse.

A Saiyan Homecoming

By Nadia Rose

lady_adestine@yahoo.com

Chapter 14:  The Heavenly Knights of Ni

_Your discretion,_ the words rang sharply in her brain.

_The matter of host is left to your discretion_.

Damn the gods.  And damn their arrogance, which had put her in this position in the first place.

The woman, if she could be called a woman with liquid crimson eyes and black wings that swept elegantly out behind her, had found herself in a situation she had hoped would never come true, and her honor required her to aggravate it even further.

Honor, a funny little word that possessed a massive dark underbelly.

Her honor was going to ruin some poor mortal's life.

Fate had decided that said poor mortal had to be someone close to the Kai-Elect, one of the few people the woman considered to be her friends.  Friends didn't casually ruin each other's lives, but in this case she had no other choice.  It was all part of the game, the very same, very deadly game that she and her counterparts had developed before time was time as a failsafe against inadequacy and balance, and it was her duty to enforce the rules.

Duty.  Another loaded word the mortals were so fond of.

Even Creation Angels were bound by their duty to the Multiverse and, in this case, it fell upon Kyuushi's shoulders alone.  She wouldn't have asked any of her counterparts to accompany her anyway.  Aphadite would _feel_ for her victim, Gorgandus was entirely too close to the situation and Yinyo…Yinyo couldn't stand to be in the mere presence of what stood before her.  He said it upset the balance of the way things were supposed to be.

Kyuushi didn't quite understand her love's sentiment—she had always thought the Angel of Balance would be fond of the giant glass orb that rested on a pedestal in front of her.  Easily the size of a grown man's head, black clouds gently spiraling in its glowing depths, it contained the ultimate counterweight in existence.

The Majin.

There were no words that could describe the Majin, at least not in any language that the people it was about to be unleashed upon knew.  Evil was probably the closest they could ever come, and even that would only graze across the tip of the iceberg.  Even now, while it was safely contained within the orb that had been its prison for millennia, the Majin's presence saturated the air around her, charging the atmosphere with malevolent foreboding.

Being who she was, Kyuushi didn't notice.  Her own aura was quite similar although she hadn't nearly the same penchant for chaos.  Kneeling on the polished marble steps before the orb she silently studied it, drawn once more into her current quandary.

The Host.

The Majin, with all its power, was a dangerous thing indeed.  Dangerous enough it wasn't allowed to have a body of its own.  Ever.  Without a physical power base, a host, to pull from the Majin was no more than any typical dangerous spirit.  It was kept here in her domain, within the orb, in order to make sure that it neither chose a host of its own free will or was forcibly put into a host by the magic of a meddling mortal.  That had happened once, a long time ago, and not even the Supreme Kai would talk about what exactly had happened.

It had fallen to her to keep it from happening again.  Reincarnation and all life in the spirit world was her domain, and the slender young woman took her job very seriously.  Even when it required her to release an impending Armageddon on the Multiverse.

If Son Gohan didn't have what it took to be Supreme Kai, the very existence of Everything-that-is was, quite simply, screwed.

And in an act that had made Kyuushi long to insult the heritage of various gods, she had been given the power to see if he would pass what would be his ultimate test, or if he would fail.

_That_ was not a part of the rules.

Tradition demanded that she do as the gods bid her in matters of testing the Kai-elects, but they had merely turned to her and told her the most important decision of them all rested in her hands.  

The host was up to her "discretion."

So she sat on the steps beneath the glowing ball that contained only death and doom to consider her options.  She could have chose any living creature to carry the Majin spirit—from a fruit fly to the King of the largest Space Empire known, but the only creatures with enough of a power base for the Majin to use and be an honest challenge were Saiyans, or those with Saiyan blood.  Which limited her options to the Kai-Elect's close circle of friends and family.

She had to be the worst friend Son Gohan was ever going to have.

She had to pick out somebody he knew and probably loved to die, and die by his hand alone.

Names, faces, and entire lives flashed in her mind's eye as part of her realized that the act that had forced her to make this decision alone had to have been the smoothest one the gods had made that entire Council.  Because when the Kai-Elect, who was the leader in the race for the most powerful being in the Multiverse stormed them in anger, the gods would be able to point their fingers at her to neatly place all of the blame, and Gohan's anger, upon her shoulders.

Kaioshin had been right.  The gods had developed entirely too much power, which, combined with arrogance and only a minute number of Knights to enforce the rules, was fast leading to a thunderous head.

Something had to give, and it was Kyuushi's duty to make sure that it wasn't the Supreme Kai.

She would do what she had to in order to keep the Kaios in power over the gods the way things had designed to be.  Which meant that Gohan had to be tested to the fullest of his abilities, even if it cost her his friendship.

She sternly reminded herself that she wasn't supposed to get too attached and rose, initiating the process that would transfer the Majin from its orb so she could implant it in her chosen host.  That done, the Angel of Death assumed her most human form and left the planet that was her domain, preparing to jump straight into the fire.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Trunks Briefs had, technically, never caught on fire, but he was pretty sure he knew what it felt like now.  Except of course, he still hadn't burst into flame, but given the lifestyle he led that was sure to change.  His entire jaw throbbed, although whether from the fact it was broken or that he'd been unconsciously attempting to grind his teeth through that entire kidnapping episode he wasn't sure.  And now his mind was whirling like a top to go along with his jaw.  After all, bad things always came in threes, didn't they?

He'd already been through two mini-disasters, and he was waiting for the third with all the clarity of a man who was sure his life was about to end.

He'd married Pan, hadn't he?

Not that he regretted marrying Pan, not in the slightest, although he still wasn't sure how that had happened.  One day they'd been close friends, and the next Vegeta had found them lip-locked together in the Jacuzzi.  Trunks still hadn't lived that particular escapade down.  What was worrying him about marrying Pan was the timing.  They'd gotten married while Gohan was away—unable to send him a message, and too impatient to wait.

The last time Trunks had truly faced down Gohan's wrath had been after that incident years ago when he was about ten.  The one that had involved rewiring Gohan's alarm clock and a pair of theatre-sized speakers.  He still counted himself lucky to have walked away after that one.

No, what was bothering Trunks was the fact that he probably wouldn't walk away when Gohan found out his little girl was married.  Gohan defined over-protective father; Trunks wasn't looking forward to seeing how far he'd take that concept.

His father-in-law was standing in front of him boasting more muscles than an average Saiyan, and Trunks had become very, very aware of how little he'd actually trained in the last year or so.

Which made the look Gohan was giving him a very frightening look indeed.

"Into the kitchen," his father-in-law/surrogate brother growled quietly, tugging his chin towards the door behind him, never taking his eyes off of Trunks.

Trunks gulped.

"Now, please," Gohan murmured quietly.  "We don't want to be in here right now."

Trunks blinked.  He wasn't talking to him?  Beside him, Pan pushed herself to her feet, the chain hanging off her belt jingling slightly with the movement.  Dark eyes peered down at him, and she winked slightly.  Trunks remembered to breathe when he saw Videl quietly usher Barden past them into the kitchen too.

Good.  He wasn't going to be one-on-one with his worse nightmare.  Well, his worst nightmare next to Pan wielding her grandmother's weapon-of-doom, and that one had been caffeine induced.

He hefted himself up onto legs that threatened to sag beneath him, mentally cursing the tranquilizer that was still making him sluggish.  Pan's slender arm wrapped around him in support, and the two began their journey to the kitchen looking a bit like a three-legged monster.

It was only once he saw Yamcha and Tien carefully lower his immobile father onto the kitchen table did he realize they were all in the kitchen.  That nagging image of Gohan in a white mask with a butcher's knife evaporated.  He'd really watched too many movies.

Pan blinked and gave him a confused look, having just picked up on the rather strange images in his head.  She'd been keeping a strong mental touch since he couldn't physically talk, and their bond throbbed in his head.  "What was all _that_ about?"

The young Saiyan Prince shrugged and burrowed his hand in the gleaming dark hair at the nape of her neck.

Standing next to them with a squirming twin clamped in her arms, Marron pretended to gag.  They ignored her.  Even though it had been a year, Trunks and Pan weren't past that newlywed stage yet.

"Hey Bulma," Gohan questioned, poking at the new door, which had been installed about six weeks ago if Trunks remembered correctly, "how strong is this thing?"

"We designed it for explosive labs in space vehicles.  It's shatterproof, fireproof, waterproof, and bombproof," his mother recited like an experienced salesperson, digging out cups and glasses from a cabinet.  "I thought it would be appropriate in this household."

Gohan punched the button, enabling the sliding door to close and lock, sounding eerily like an airlock.  About the time the last of tumblers settled into place the coffee table crashed into it, breaking haphazardly into about five different pieces.

Bulma blinked.

Gohan smiled wearily at her.  "I think it's about to get tested."

Another piece of furniture joined the first in a pile at the foot of the door.

"Gohan," Bulma's voice held a dangerous tone that sent danger warnings flashing in Trunks' brain, "was that my end table?"

Gohan peered down at the splinters.  "I think so."

"Do you mind telling me why," a lamp shattered against the door, "those…people…are throwing my furniture around?"

Unease somewhat eliminated when Gohan shuffled his feet a bit (some things never changed), Trunks waited with everyone else.  They too were curious.

"Well," the Kai-elect murmured as Octavia went sprinting past him behind the door, shouting something in a language Trunks didn't understand, "I would hazard a guess and say there's a spirit in your living room."

"What?"  Bulma was nonplussed.  "A spirit."

"The Knights said they were here to hunt spirits," Gohan leaned casually against one side of the door so he could watch the action.  "I can't see anything spiritual at the moment because of what's left of the tranquilizer, but they don't usually attack thin air for no reason."

In the front room the three Knights could be seen approaching the back wall cautiously, wings mysteriously gone.  The little Pixie—Cami—dove at something and suddenly changed directions rapidly.  Like she'd been flung.

But there was nothing there.

"Most definitely a spirit," Gohan murmured.  "Can you see it Piccolo?"

"There's something there," the Namek admitted gruffly, ignoring Goten's small blonde daughter, who was peering up at him curiously.

She tugged on his cape.  "Hey mister, do you know you're green?"

Piccolo eyed her for a moment.

The girl, Macadamia, who had been called Damia since she was born, beamed up at him.  Fear wasn't a part of her psyche, although she contained enough mischief for ten people her size.  Trunks knew this from experience—he wasn't babysitting again for a long time.

"I can't see it, Gohan," the Namek continued, ignoring the fact that Damia's fraternal twin, the black-haired Almond, had joined her sister in peering up at him.  Both girls possessed their grandmother's slanted blue eyes.

Monda, because not even Marron was cruel enough to call her daughter Almond, reached out and pinched a long green finger.  "It's not paint—it doesn't rub off."

The respected green man twitched; some things never changed.

Trunks ignored the brewing situation and peered back out of his mother's massive clear-plastic door, trying to see what was going on.

* * * * * * * *

For the three beings that could see what was going on, the situation was a lot less confusing and a lot more serious.  Part of it might have been the fact that the Knights were incapable of doing anything without some sort of disjointed banter, but most of it was the fact that they were in a very heated situation.  And it was threatening to get much hotter.

"Well," Octavia murmured, staring at the beast wedged tightly against the wall, "how do we want to do this?"

Cami fluttered.  "Aren't you supposed to be the military genius?"

Octavia's golden eyes darkened a few shades to rich golden amber as she peered at the girl.  "But that," she reminded pointedly, "isn't an army.  You can't fight it like one."  She glanced at the beast, which glared back belligerently.  It was going to be a gritty fight, and she didn't need the years of experience she had to tell her that.

"So how do we fight it, oh wise and mighty leader," the Pixie quipped.

Gohan glared warningly at her.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Octavia studied the beast for the moment.  "To be honest, I have no idea.  I don't have much experience with dragons."  It stung to have to admit that, but her experience in life had been limited to humans with guns and various pointed objects, and in the afterlife Shin didn't let her do much fighting.  At least not after that incident where she'd gotten into a brawl with the Saiyan King in hell and practically destroyed a good part of his palace.  She sniffed delicately.  

He'd started it.

Annoying stubborn alien royalty aside, the woman who'd been a queen herself in life studied the dragon in front of her.  Aside from the fact that it was large, purple, and exceedingly ugly, it was also a spirit, which was going to make things a hell of a lot more complicated.  There was a spirit dragon in the middle of one of the largest cities in this country, and it had made its fort in one of the most prestigious buildings there.  The thing wasn't going to come quietly and someone was bound to see it.  They were on this mission solo too, which meant that there wasn't a clean-up crew floating around.

She glanced at her grandson and his partner, who were arguing.  Well, at least Cami was arguing.  Gohan was just standing there with his snide little smile that was bound to make Cami furious.  There was a reason they didn't get out much.

It was at times like these she hated her job.

Unfortunately, being a Knight was a position that couldn't be negotiated.  She was stuck with them.

Sighing, she gazed at them, then at the beast.  "Let's see if we can do this without destroying a big part of the city this time."  Without waiting to see what they were doing, she moved forward, hoping to grab that _thing's_ attention.

Cami stopped mid-taunt.  "Did she start without us?"

Gohan was already moving forward.

Cami sighed and streaked after them, a purple comet streaking glitter behind her.

It was time to get to work.

Octavia's hopes of a quiet capture were little more than a dried-up shell in about ten minutes.  Big and Ugly didn't want to go back to the Otherworld, and it was slippery enough to make good on that desire.  She wasn't entirely sure it was a dragon—every time they got close enough to clamp down on it enough that one of them could transport it back to the Ogres at Yemma's it seemed to shift sizes, melting away from their hands.  And of course it was hard to keep a grip on something that didn't have a physical body, but they'd been trained.

Still, it wasn't quite enough to make this job much easier.

She balanced on the sloping surface of a desk that had had two of its legs broken, sucking absently at a cut on one of her knuckles while Gohan took his turn attacking.  He'd summoned his sword and was attempting to get beneath the phantom scales to wound the thing, but he'd gotten far too used to working off of a horse and wasn't making much headway.  

Cami was zipping around the dragon's head, making a glittery distraction of herself since her ki blasts were practically useless, and was succeeding in making it annoyed.  Very annoyed.  It seemed to still for a moment, and Octavia's eyes widened as she realized what it was about to do.  Plunging forward, she managed to snatch Cami as a stream of ghostly flames singed the spot in the air where she'd just been, colliding with the wall instead.

Somewhere behind the glass door, she heard a woman shriek about her walls being on fire.  

Octavia sighed and drew her own sword and joined Gohan in the charge.  "What the," Gohan swung his broadsword at the claw lashing towards him, "hell—is this…thing?"

Octavia ducked through the opening and stabbed the thing neatly in the soft area beneath its side, only barely managing to miss the thrashing limbs as it flailed.  "I don't know!"

Cami aimed carefully and flicked her fingers, sending a tulip spiraling towards one of the eyes.  "Whatever it is, it's not cooperating!  I say Gohan fries it and takes it back in a doggie bag."

Gohan gave her look that suggested his patience was running thin.  "Cami, I'd destroy the building with the blast it would take to do that."

"Oh, and I suppose Shin can't compensate them?"

"How are we supposed to cover up an entire building, let alone _Capsule Corps,_ exploding and then reappearing?"

Cami grumbled and sprayed glitter into the air in annoyance.

"More attacking, less chatter," Octavia snapped as she sliced at the lashing tail that was approaching her, sidestepping the vicious barb on the end.  Enemies had been known to turn themselves in rather than listen to Gohan and Cami.

"Yes ma'am," they snapped again, and attacked once more with renewed vigor.

Octavia hoped all of the spirits that had escaped weren't as hard to control as this one was, or else they were in for a very long campaign.  Luckily for her, things were about to be solved much more quickly by getting more complicated.  

The only one missing from Gohan's circle of Earthling companions, the Saiyan Prince's daughter, had woken up down in the labs from where she'd been sleeping after being mostly-healed by the regeneration tanks there.  Curious as to what all the noise was about, she'd rolled out of bed and wandered upstairs to investigate.  Right into the reach of the dragon-spirit's tail.

Opportunity being what it was, the dragon pounced, coiling the length of its tail around her waist and brutally inserting the tail-barb into her side.

Cami roared and dive-bombed the thing as Bra, not recovered enough to really struggle, went limp.

Without pausing to think about it, the Knights closed the distance and attacked in unison.  Where before they had been careful not to anger the thing enough it could cause wanton destruction, now it didn't matter.  There was a mortal in danger, and their priorities had changed.  Bra's well-being was much more important than a few walls and rumors.  The dragon spirit soon found itself being hounded in three different directions.

Octavia had just inserted the gleaming blade of her katana into the flesh of wing-tissue when she heard Gohan let loose a stream of curses that would have sent his mother into conniptions.  "It's draining her ki!"

A quick stretch of her mental senses told the dead Amazon that the dragon was indeed draining the demi-saiyan's ki.  It was also using that energy to take a more substantial form.  Reaching for the dagger she kept strapped to her leg, Octavia began informing the dragon of all the anatomically impossible things she was going to do to it for making things difficult.  Crudely, and in Amazonian.

Inside the kitchen, as a massive purple reptile slowly took form against the back wall of the living room, Chichi couldn't decide whether to be shocked or feel sorry for the creature.  It was about to meet her mother's wrath, something she wouldn't have wished even on Vegeta.

Octavia glanced at Gohan and Cami.  "Get her out."

Without pausing to think, because nobody messed with the messenger Knight when her face took on that particular expression, Gohan and Cami redirected their efforts to the tail and the demi-saiyan it contained.  Now that the dragon had a physical form, it was much easier to deal with—their blades wreaked the damage that sharp and pointy objects were supposed to.

Gohan lifted his sword above his head and brought it down in a single stroke.

The dragon roared as its tail was suddenly disconnected with the rest of its body.

Octavia smiled dispassionately at the creature, a cool smile that armies in hell knew only too well.  A deft flick of her wrist imbedded her dagger in the dragon's eye, and it writhed a bit longer as Gohan hacked the excess tail off Bra and carried her over to where the others were, Cami hovering protectively.

"So you like to drain ki," she murmured as the creature stared at her out of its one good eye, bleeding in several places.  "Well, let's just give you a taste of your own medicine then."  

Closing her eyes in concentration, she held one hand out in front of her with the fingers relaxed to call upon her signature ki attack and fill the room with golden light.

* * * * * * * * *

Gohan already had the door open by the time Rider and Cami got to it, and Rider carried Bra straight to the kitchen table, where he laid her limp body down beside Vegeta.  Trunks tried to move forward to see what was going on, but Pan's grip stopped him and he stayed behind reluctantly, realizing he would be no more than a space-filler there.

Bulma, however, had no such compunctions.  She was beside Rider in an instant.  "What the hell was that thing?  And what did it do to my daughter?"

Ignoring her, Rider pulled a knife off his belt and was very carefully prying at the wicked barb that was imbedded in Bra's side.

Cami the Pixie yelped and swatted at him, sending a fresh spray of glitter into the loose strands of his dark hair.  "Do you know what you're doing?  You might hurt her!"

Rider ignored her, poking carefully at the barb before turning to Bulma.  "It's not draining her ki any longer, so it doesn't have to be pulled out immediately.  Just leave it in there for a few minutes while I help Octavia."

Cami glared at him.  "You're just going to leave _my sister_ here to bleed to death on a table to battle some dragon?"

Trunks blinked.  _Sister?_

Rider didn't even turn around and the door clanked shut behind him.  Cami sputtered then moved to sit next to Bra's head, where Bulma was trying to arrange kitchen towels around the barb so it wouldn't move, mumbling all the while.  Barden, unable to find any more towels, offered Bulma his shirt to use.  She thanked him and added it to the pile, noticing that the wound really wasn't bleeding that much—the blood there was the dragon's, a deep shade of green.  Bra looked like she was sleeping, not like there was a piece of dragon's tail sticking out her side.

Bulma glared at Gohan.  "What the hell is that thing?  And what did it do to my…" she trailed off as she saw something glide through her living room.  "Why is there a giant bird in my living room?"

Trunks turned to see what was going on and felt even more surprise course through his brain.  There was indeed a bird in the living room, an enormous eagle made out of what looked like orange ki, with talons as long as his entire hand.  As he watched it swooped down on the dragon, sinking the curved things into the scaly hide without any effort whatsoever.

"What _is_ that?"

Cami fluttered above their heads so she could see what was going on.  Finding nothing interesting, she sank back to the table between Bra and Vegeta, who was demanding to be told what was going on.  "I was wondering when she'd get that out."

As Trunks watched, the dragon melted away from his sight just as it had appeared, but the eagle stayed in one place, flapping wings the size of hover cars as it worked to stay attached to whatever it was.

Chichi, bouncing her youngest grandson on one hip, peered over Krillin's head.  "That's a totem," she explained.  "I haven't seen one…well, since Mother died."

"And what," Vegeta grated dourly from the table, "is a totem?"

"It's a ki attack," Chichi answered absently.  "Native to my mother's people.  I never learned how to do it since she died before she could teach me, and the Amazons don't train enough with their ki anymore to use them."

"What?"  Marron was skeptical.  "An entire race with ki-attacks?"

"Yes," Piccolo rumbled quietly from his corner.  "The Amazons.  They worked for Kami until Goku came.  He remembers her," he nodded at the redhead woman planted firmly in the middle of the living room.  "She was the strongest human on the planet for a long time."

Whatever Marron had to say in reply was lost as something, Trunks assumed it was the dragon, bellowed hard enough to rattle the glassware on the cabinetry.  Rider darted forward to grab at something they couldn't see and abruptly disappeared.

Gohan sighed and unlocked the door as the eagle swooped down upon Octavia, shrinking until it was small enough to sit on her hand where it promptly disappeared.  "You okay?"

"Just peachy," she called back, hobbling over to them.  "I hope they're not all that way."

"Wait a minute," Videl demanded brusquely, "there are more of those things?"

Trunks started to nod in agreement, but stopped before the motion became painful.

Octavia nodded.  "Yes, but most aren't like that one.  It was stubborn."  She walked over to the table and peered down at Bra, apparently not noticing the fact she was bleeding.  "I think I've got something that will deal with that," she murmured, digging in her pockets.

"Do you?" Cami perked up.  "They took all my senzus when they transformed me."

"Mmm," Octavia murmured, "Gohan, do you know what that _thing_ was?"

Gohan shook his head, sending his mane of hair waving.  "Some sort of spirit dragon that can drain ki to take a form.  Why?"

"I didn't know," she replied, "thought you might.  You've been some places I haven't."  She held up a tiny vial.  "Here it is."

"That doesn't look like a senzu," Bulma murmured.

"It's not," Octavia handed the vial to Cami.  "Hold that.  It's more like liquid senzu.  I always keep some on me for emergencies."  She brushed fingers over the edge of the exposed barb, searching for something.

About the time Trunks realized what she was planning to do and moved forward to stop her, she'd already yanked the barb out of the wound with a quick jerk, and dropped it onto a pile of dishtowels in a bloody mess.

Trunks flinched.  That…smelled horrible.  Like rotting flesh, and he knew he wasn't the only one who could smell it, judging from the looks on the others' faces.  Beside him, Pan turned green and scrambled for the nearest bathroom.

Octavia glanced up and shrugged, reaching out for the vial in Cami's hand.  Flicking it open, she upended the entire contents into the wound on Bra's side.  The gleaming liquid spread across the wound and, as they all stared, healed it neatly from the inside out, the skin mending together as flawlessly as if it had never been broken.

"Good as new," Octavia murmured, wiping the extra liquid off of Bra's side with a clean dishtowel.

Bulma shoved her aside to examine Bra for herself.  "But…what…how?"

"Magic," Octavia replied, wiping at the blood on her hands with the towel.  "Like a senzu."  She looked up mildly as Rider popped back into the room.  "Get it delivered?"

"Yes," he replied, "but it was dead.  You killed it."

"It attacked a mortal," Octavia wasn't the slightest bit repentant.  "What was I supposed to do?  Let it attack another?"

Rider shrugged, braiding his long hair.  "I know.  But they threw a fit at Yemma's."

Octavia rolled her eyes.  "Well, they've got the wrong Queen.  I didn't let all the souls out.  Queen Emma did."  She tossed her dishtowel at him, and he began wiping his own hands.  "Bureaucracies."

Cami giggled, absently stroking Bra's hair.  "So what's next?"

"There are still more spirits out there to find," Octavia murmured as they watched one of the workers put out the last of the flames.  "We'd better start hunting."

Gohan tugged Barden back from beside Bra with his tail.  "I know I can't do much, but if you need help…"

Rider stopped him with a shake of his head.  "No.  It's our job, not yours.  I think that thing was just homing in on the biggest kis so it could get a body.  C'mon Cami," he snagged the Pixie and put her on his shoulder.  "Bra will be fine, and I'll need your help."

"What?  So I can suffocate them in pollen?"

"Cami…"

"Yes, Gohan?"

"Shut up."

Chichi's mother had a pained expression on her face as she watched her companions.  "Of all the people to get stuck with, it had to be the Knights of Ni."  Shaking her head, she spoke a bit louder.  "We'll check back in with you later.  And Piccolo, don't go anywhere.  We're not sure what we're supposed to do with the souls Emma put back that have bodies yet."

Piccolo nodded.

Octavia nodded at them and followed the other two out the door, leaving the collection of eccentric creatures known as the Z-fighters staring at the shell of what once had been a living room.

Trunks sighed and went to check on Pan before Gohan noticed he was there and added Trunks blood to the green dragon blood on the walls.

Behind him, Bulma, Chichi, and Videl turned on Gohan at once, each with voices that, to sensitive Saiyan ears, were the equivalent of a bullhorn.

It was going to be yet another long night.

* * * * * * * * *

A young man sat in the middle of his own personal workshop, which coincidentally was the largest lab in the most lucrative business in the world, thanks to his grandmother's skills at corporate warfare.  But he didn't think about such things—the lanky blue-haired teenager was an inventor, who ate, slept, and breathed machines.  Many of the higher-ups criticized the fact that he had advanced to co-head of the Science department after only six months, but after their first trip to his lab they all walked away singing his praises.  In the past five years he had managed to single-handedly drag the technology of his world forward at least a decade.

At the moment he was sitting in the middle of the concrete floor, surrounded by the parts of his masterpiece, which he was painstakingly putting back together.  It didn't look like much—and would look like even less when he got it assembled, but it was actually one of the rarest pieces of such equipment in the universe.

His masterpiece was a portal that could transect time, dimensions, and even the barrier between universes, and it did so without causing mass mayhem and destruction.  He'd only used it twice, but already he had taken it apart to improve it.  The thing that made the portal so unique was that, theoretically, it could anchor itself in one timeline, meaning he could go backwards or forwards in time to change significant world events.  It was a machine that the gods would have killed for—or rather, killed to destroy.

He didn't worry about such things.  There was only the machine, and the greater purpose it would soon serve.  The demi-saiyan, for a long blue tail was wrapped around the teenager's waist, would reprogram the portal to anchor itself in a particular timeline, in an effort to stop something disastrous from happening.

Many would rail and moan at such an act, for even the illustrious Mirai Trunks, who the inventor's little brother resembled, hadn't managed to stop the events that ravaged his world. 

But he wasn't trying to save his world.  He was trying to save the Multiverse.

Even it took him and his family out of the equation.

* * * * * * * * * *

TBC….

Please Review!


	15. It's a Mad, Mad World

A/N:  Yes, I know it's been forever, but I've had things like Real Life dogging my heels.  This is a rather…odd chapter.  Not one I'm necessarily proud of, but vital to the continuation of the story.  I promise that this particular group of characters will be the last OCs to pop up—they get their chance at glory, and then go back into the background.  There are later moments in the chapter with canon characters.

Also, the first little bit of this chapter was written by the wonderful Lisse, as most of this group of characters are co-owned.  I'd recommend her fics any time—so if you're looking for something to read, there ya go.

Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy!

Disclaimer:  I don't own DBZ.  I do, however, own or co-own most of the OCs.  Various others are used with permission.

A Saiyan Homecoming

Chapter 15:  It's a Mad, Mad, World

In a remote part of the world, the sky opened up. People fell out. The sky closed again. Aside from a few traumatized birds, life returned to normal.

After a fashion.

The new arrivals were odd, even by Earth's standards. There were seven of them, six youths all clustered around a blue-haired boy in his late teens. His name was Ty. He was poking something that looked like the illegitimate offspring of a satellite dish and a remote control, with a colander thrown in for good measure.

"Are we there yet?" another newcomer asked. She was twelve or thirteen, and like Ty, she had blue hair.

A silver-haired girl in rather revealing clothing looked around. She was about fifteen and very pretty. She was also purple.

"We're somewhere," she concluded.

The blue-haired girl rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Megami. Helpful as ever."

Megami beamed. Sarcasm wasn't part of her vocabulary.

"Stop it, Chance," a black-haired young man snapped. He was about twenty and quite tall, and very, very Saiyan. He even had the long brown tail to prove it. Along with a blond boy, he was surveying the wilderness for enemies. It was a habit of his.

Chance glared, but abandoned the Megami-torture and looked for someone else to harass. She didn't have many options. The two would-be warriors were scouting the landscape, Ty was busy poking his contraption, and the last two members of their little troop were off limits. One was Megami's older brother Dios, who was aloof and quiet and -- incidentally -- also purple. The other was Ty's girlfriend Carrie. Carrie couldn't use ki to save her life, but she was incapable of being afraid and she had The Whistle. Many a sensitive Saiyan eardrum had been damaged by The Whistle. Since Chance was part Saiyan, she left Carrie alone.

Abruptly Ty held up the gadget. Red numbers flashed on a screen that had probably once belonged to someone's calculator. "See? We made it."

This announcement was greeted with considerably less enthusiasm than might have been expected. The blond boy and Chance exchanged uneasy half-smiles. The Saiyan grimaced and swiped at the air with a fist. Dios merely sighed and nodded, and even Megami stopped bouncing on her toes. Only Carrie didn't look upset.

Then again, Carrie didn't know why they were here. Nor did she know the purpose behind their mission. The others weren't about to spoil her blissful ignorance. Not yet, anyway.

If the troop accomplished their goal, some of them would be trapped on this world, possibly forever, with no way of going home or telling their families what had become of them. But they had it better than the others.

If they succeeded, most of the seven travelers would simply cease to exist.

But as this was an absolutely morose thought and most of the seven travelers were trying not to think that way, it was shunted to the farthest corners of their minds to idle.  What happened to them was irrelevant; they were serving a much greater purpose, and were naturally a bit curious about this world.  They didn't have any memories of this place other than the stories, which was as it should be, but they were also teenagers, meaning they were ready to walk on the wild side.

For these teenagers, that usually involved an ordinary mechanical object, which combined with Ty's propensity for adding rocket fuel usually unleashed great havoc on some poor innocent bystander.  Their grandmother was still mopping up the mess from that incident with the overhead projector.

Luckily for the denizens of Earth there wasn't any rocket fuel in the immediate vicinity, so Ty's random thoughts of souping up a box fan were added to his never-ending list of things to try when responsible people weren't around.  They were also lucky that Orion was standing in as the resident responsible one.  All of sixteen years old, his still-growing frame promised height and muscle mass, but it was the stormy look in his blue eyes that made even Carrie pause in her attempts to wring the reason why they were here out of Ty.

"We need to figure out what exactly we're going to say," his voice was quiet, but it held the authority of a man much, much older than Orion.  "They'll be suspicious if our stories don't match."

Carrie blinked her indigo eyes, shades darker than anyone else's, and stared at him as if he'd grown another head.  And in Carrie's experience, he might.  After all, she'd only found out a week ago what the others had known all of their lives.  That travel between both time and dimensions was not only possible, but her darling boyfriend had made it a reality.  "What?  We can't just tell them we're here to save the world?"

Carrie had yet to understand the definitions of things called subtlety and tact.

"I'm afraid," the purple boy spoke for the first time in his light smooth voice, "that telling them that would only increase their suspicions of us."

"Ooooh," Chance sneered, shifting her weight on sandaled feet, "the fact that you and Megami are purple wouldn't ring any bells anyway?"

"Chance," Orion warned.  "You're not helping things."

Chance gave her brother a piercing stare before flipping her sloppy blue braid over one shoulder.  "Hmph.  I have an opinion too."

"Of course you do," Dios soothed, because that was part of his nature.  "And as for being purple, I'm sure we'll come up with something."

"Right," Orion murmured, nodding his head in a sharp gesture reminiscent of their grandmother, which was enough to keep them all in line.  "We should probably hurry, too.  We don't exactly have inconspicuous kis, and someone's sure to notice us shortly.  So what's our cover story?"

Off in the distance, crickets chirped.

Surprisingly enough, it was Megami who broke the silence first.  Although she could always be counted on for support and distraction, Megami had never been known for her cognitive skills.  Which made it all that much more surprising when what she said actually made sense.  "Well," she pushed an errant lock of her silver hair out of her face, "what about that timeline Grandpa's always talking about?  The one where other-him was Champion and the androids were evil?"

Chance blinked.  "Did Megami just…think?"

Carrie swatted at her.

"That might work," Ty murmured, running his fingers through his hair while he stared at the machine sitting at his feet.  "We're Briefs anyway."

"I'm not," the young man who had up until then remained silent spoke up.  "And neither are Dios and Megami.  How are you going to explain us?"  He cocked his head, blinking large dark eyes.  In Bardock's case everything from his name to his face largely screamed his heritage to anyone who knew the slightest bit about his race, and he was far too Saiyan to pass off as a random descendant.

Megami shrugged and giggled as the thought of Bardock without his Saiyan spikes passed through her mind.  Some things were just too amusing not to laugh at.  "Well, didn't that timeline have a Gohan?  You're a Son anyway."

Orion studied his fellow warrior carefully.  "Yes.  There's really not a lot of your dad in you unless someone knows what to look for.  You could be Gohan's son."

Bardock sneered, not happy with the comparison, but nodded anyway, folding his arms across his chest.  It would have to serve.

Megami breezed on, apparently unaware of that little interaction.  "As for oniichan and me, well, we just got stuck while we were traveling!  Like that one movie that Kelsee Major did last month and the…"

Chance put a hand over her cousin's mouth to cut off the ensuing list of said actor's attributes.  "Who's to say more aliens didn't stop off?  It's happened everywhere else."  Considering that Chance's _everywhere else_ was extremely narrow in terms of the Multiverse she wasn't exactly correct, but close enough for their purposes.

"All right," Orion began correlating facts and aligning tidbits in his head.  "We're from the Miraiverse, and we came to check up on everyone and say that we were all right, but something went wrong with the time machine and we misjudged our jump."  He eyed the technical genius.  "Can you back that up?"

After hunting in his pocket for a moment, Ty pulled out a capsule, which he tossed to the ground to reveal a time machine.  Rather old and creaky, even by his standards, but it was big enough to carry them all.  Pulling a panel of the hull off, he peered at the wiring and absently swapped two connectors.  "Done."

Staring at the dimensional portal, which sat at his feet like a squat mechanical dog, he pressed his thumb onto a lever and watched as it disappeared into a capsule that had been new on this Earth a good five years ago.  Tucking it carefully into his breast pocket, he glanced at his brother and took charge.  "Look, when we get to the city…" he trailed off for a moment while he searched his memories.  "There's just going to be a lot of people, and buildings bigger than we build anymore, so you might want to be prepared."

Carrie blinked.  "But that isn't safe!  All those people together!  What are they thinking?"

Ty was saved from having to answer by the appearance of three figures over the hill that, given the circumstances, should have given them a shock.  But Dios had excellent perception in matters of the surreal, and was quite aware they were on their way over.

Rider pulled his horse to a stop and sat at the top of a small knoll, peering down at the little group before him.  They were bringing back memories of past missions that were sending alarm bells ringing in his head, and if his instincts were right their very presence wasn't a good sign at all.  Neither of his companions had ever been to that particular universe, so they only saw a group of people who looked like they belonged about as much as a penguin belonged in a desert, which was to say not at all.

Then they noticed that two of the individuals were purple—and the set of their features and silvered hair reminded them of a particular god too much to be coincidence.

"Wow," Cami murmured softly.  "Shin spawned."

Well, there went one of their secrets.

Megami beamed and waved.  There were times that it was amazing that she was actually the Supreme Kai's daughter, because she didn't have a godly bone in her body.  Of course she also wasn't due to exist for another twenty years or so if at all, but none of the Knights knew this.  Her brother Dios, however, took after his father in a great many ways and stepped forward, adopting a posture he'd picked up from his human grandmother.

"My name is Dios," he introduced himself while mentally scrambling for something to tell them.  This was followed by a tiny smile.  "I've been sent keep an eye on things around here in case something goes wrong.  Father is too busy to come immediately if things get out of hand."

Octavia cocked her head for a moment and nodded.  "And where did you pick up the others?"

Dios shrugged, an elegant motion that was known to send all of his female classmates drooling.  "They're friends."

"Ah," Octavia allowed, rubbing at a livid bruise that decorated her forearm.  "Well, if you'll excuse us, we're on the trail of someone named Gero.  Supposed to be a tricky little spirit, and we'd best get moving."

"Of course," Dios inclined his head, and Octavia and Cami zoomed off, taking that as all of the permission they'd need.

Rider, however, didn't charge away immediately.  He approached them calmly, peering carefully at faces and ki.  Dios gazed at him calmly.  Rider stared back.  "I happen to know," his voice was deceptively light, "that the Supreme Kai doesn't have children."  He eyed the rest of the group, "and your parents are far too young to be parents yet."

Dios channeled his father.  The Knightly version of Son Gohan was someone he'd known all his life, and he had no trouble exercising the authority he'd been born with.  "What we are doing here is of no concern to you," his order was more warning than order, "only that it is vitally important that the others don't know.  And you have spirits to return."

Rider glared, but Dios had mastered the art of staring down even the most intimidating people at a young age and gazed back calmly, without a flicker of expression on his face.  Dios always won big on poker-nights.

Rider was the first to look away.  He dug a heel into the side of his steed, making him pivot around and face the opposite direction before galloping away after his partners.

Although Dios didn't look it, he was actually quite relieved.  He was nowhere strong enough to take on Rider, nor did he actually have the power to order him around.  Even in the future, he didn't have much power in the hierarchies of the Afterlife, except as his father's rather coddled son.  Not that Dios minded that reputation; there was a lot one could learn when they weren't taken seriously.

He waited until Rider was well out of earshot and turned back to his friends and family.  "Remember to keep a watch out for anything suspicious.  The Majin has to be transferred by actual touch, it can't be done any other way."

Carrie arched an eyebrow.  "So we're looking for anything suspicious.  Strange creatures in weird clothes with stuff from the stone age, weird golden goblets, big ugly statues of naked monsters, that sort of thing?"

Dios considered for a moment, well aware that Orion was shifting restlessly from foot to foot.  He had much more of a personal investment in this than any of the others.  "Yes, but it could be in something completely ordinary, although that's highly unlikely.  The gods don't like to play with fire when it comes to things like that."

Orion snorted.  The others ignored him.  He had taken to this situation a bit differently than any of the others and, even should they choose to back off, Orion was completely capable of forcing them to carry on.  His brother and Bardock didn't doubt that he would in the slightest; he'd always been closer to his mother than either of his siblings.

"Well," Bardock half-growled, "let's get this over with.  I'd like to be home in time for dinner."

Chance beamed.  "Spoken like a true Son."

"Oh, be quiet, you.  At least I don't wear an ankle length parka in July."

"Dad made me!"

"Uh-huh.  Or maybe you're just weird."

"Bardock!"

Before Chance could reply, Carrie took hold of the situation.  She grabbed the sleek silver whistle that hung around her neck on a cord and waved it threateningly.  After having spent her entire life herding what seemed like six hundred and ninety-two male relatives, it took a lot to intimidate her.  A brewing fight between people strong enough to destroy planets wasn't one of them.  "CHILDREN!  Don't make me use this!"

Chance, who had been tightly wound for days, stopped and glared at her.  Sunlight glinted off The Whistle, and she reluctantly stepped back from the much larger Saiyan before she gave Carrie a chance to inflict irreversible damage on her eardrums.  Bardock grumbled but backed off too.

Carrie smirked and happily dropped the whistle back beneath her shirt, turning to her darling boyfriend.  "Shall we go?"

Ty obediently scooped her up, arranging her comfortably in his arms for the flight into Western Capitol.  After a few more minor squabbles and Megami walloping Chance about the shoulders with her fashionably small handbag for being stubborn, they were on their way.

Of course, they never expected to find what they did.

Capsule Corps was where it had always been, but it was big—something that they had expected.  The surprising part was that from the air, the lawn looked like a writhing multicolored mass.  Upon closer inspection, it was covered in reporters, news crews, and other general innocent bystanders.  Somehow they'd managed to get past the gates to blanket every inch of the lawn.

Carrie wondered if it was grass like she knew, or concrete.  She couldn't tell the difference through all of the people milling around.

They dropped out of the sky well out of the sight of the crowd and attempted to blend in, although with Dios and Megami and their peculiar skin color, that was a bit difficult.  The crowd seemed melded away from them like they were monstrous man-eating aliens, but they didn't notice.  Megami was even waving.

Chance rolled her eyes.  "Megami.  Stoppit."

"What?"  Megami pouted.  "I need to practice my wave!"

"And what wave might that be?  The welcome-my-adoring-fans-wave?"

"Of course."

"Megami," Chance was never known for her patience, "these people think you're a freak."

Megami shrugged and beamed at the closest couple, who were staring unabashedly at her purple skin.  "They'll remember me that way then, won't they?"

"And that's a good thing?"

"Of course!"

"And Bardock thinks I'm weird."  Any other comment Chance might have had was cut off when they rounded the gates and were attacked by a wave of sound and flashing lights, all directed towards what they knew should be the building's front door.

Reporters were packed onto the lawn like sardines, complete with camera crews, broadcasting equipment, and the occasional lackey carrying water, towels, and cell-phones.  Interspersed among them were men in Capsule Corps shirts who looked like they should have been attempting to beat each other over the heads with metal chairs in front of thousands of people on television.  They were armed with glowing plastic tubes originally intended to direct planes in the dark, but they served just as well for guiding reporters, or jabbing ribs where appropriate.  All in all, the reporters were staying away from them, which was probably good for their continued health.

Somewhere at the front of the mob, someone was answering questions.  Megami started to float off the ground to see who it was, but her brother pulled her back down to earth before she could get very far.  They didn't have to wait very long, though, because Bardock and Orion were shouldering their way over to one of the outer walls, and began boosting others up to see what was going on.  All settled, they turned their attention to the front of the crowd.

A man they only vaguely recognized from very old pictures was standing at the door, shoulders stooped and hair whitened with age.  The mustache that dripped off his lip, however, was as lavender as Megami, and that alone told them who they were seeing.  The venerable Dr. Briefs, founder of Capsule Corps, stood calmly, microphone in hand, answering questions.

He pointed at someone in the crowd.  "Your turn."

"Dr Briefs," a woman who looked like she'd been standing out all night in the cold shouted over the murmurs, "Records say that the individuals responsible for the destruction of downtown Satan City have been transferred to the Capsule Corps private hospital.  Can you tell us anything about that?"

"Well," Doctor Briefs stroked his bushy mustache in thought,  "As you know the Capsule Corps hospital has the cutting edge in medical technology, all in experimental stages, of course, but it makes our hospital much more amenable to treating the strangers after all, doesn't it?"

"Wait a minute," another reporter yelled, "you mean to say they're not under any sort of restraint or guard?"

"Oh, I didn't say that.  They're all under control and not likely to get out of it, but anything more than that I can't tell you.  Doctor-patient confidentiality still applies to aliens too, after all."

His statement was immediately met by a barrage of questions and more camera flashes.

"You mean they really _are_ aliens?"

"Do you know how they got here?"

"How are you keeping them under control?"

"What about your granddaughter?"

Dr. Briefs blinked.  "Bra's just fine.  Recovering nicely."

"But eyewitnesses say she went through a building!  How could she survive something like that?"

"Actually she just went through the glass," the man murmured in reply.  "Was in a fairly sheltered alcove when the building fell and came out of it with some cuts and bruises.  She'll back to work in no time, and the rest of your questions can wait until then, or be addressed to the press department.  I'm sure all of you know the number by now."  Without saying anything else, the doctor turned to go back into the building, and the crowds surged forward as one towards the door.

"Well," Ty murmured, "How are we going to get in?  I don't think we could get through that."  He gestured at the crowd, which was pressing against the men in Security shirts.  "Ki?"

"Too messy," Dios murmured.  "Battering ram?"

"There's always lightning," Orion was murmuring quietly.  "A few bolts in the yard might clear them out."

"Yeah, but it'd also fry half of them."

"Thank you for _that_ image, Chance."

"That's what I'm here for."

Bardock grinned devilishly.  "Hey, Carrie could flash—OW!"  He yelped as both Megami's purse and Carrie's foot connected with his ribs.

"I'm not flashing anybody Bardock," she snapped, then rolled her eyes.  "Don't they have a back door?"

Ty and Dios paused in their discussion involving the portal, a massive ki blast, and a spoon to stare sheepishly at Carrie.  "What?"

Carrie sighed.  "I know it looks like a zoo, but it's got to have a back door, doesn't it?"

"Er," Ty scratched his head.

His girlfriend pinched her nose.  "Look.  It's simple.  We can't get to the front door, so we walk around to the back.  Do I need to draw diagrams?"

"No," Ty mumbled, staring at the building.

"Do you even know where the door's at?"  Megami murmured.

"The back of the building?"

Ty glanced at the complex of domes that was Capsule Corps, his brain automatically identifying architectural structure and hypothesizing various places for the back door to be.  It wasn't that Ty was eccentric; his brain just processed concepts that most human astrophysicists would only begin to suspect the existence of decades in the future.  And with that sort of mental capacity, it took him exactly 3.14 seconds to come to a decision that would have made anyone groan if it hadn't come from him and such things were to be expected.  "It's probably on the opposite side from the front door."

Carrie sighed and smiled sweetly.  "We've established that.  Now we're going to go find it."

"Oh."  Ty stood up on the wall and offered her his hand as Bardock pulled Chance and Megami off the wall.  "Wanna lift?"  Carrie snaked her arm around his neck and held on as he dropped off the wall, landing on his feet as lightly as a cat before following his bundle of relatives through the crowds.

After a few minutes of struggle and Orion practicing his rugby-playing skills against a particularly stubborn group of photojournalists, they were on the rear side of the house, which was remarkably clear of reporters.  Even though he was out of action, apparently fear of Vegeta still worked wonders on which lines the media mob knew they could cross.

The back door was indeed where Ty had postulated it was, an unassuming creation of white-painted aluminum and glass.  They stared at it.  The door, being a door, didn't so much as flinch.  It didn't do anything—it was a door, and a rather small one at that.

Orion scowled at it.

The door stood there.

Dios mentally willed it to open.

The door stood there.

Flexing his growing intimidation skills, Bardock flexed his tail and sneered.

It was a very stubborn piece of architecture.

Megami smiled happily, wondering what it would look like if she painted it purple and silver and hung lights off it.

Despite the bad mental images, it remained steadfast.

Ty was attempting to mentally disassemble and rebuild it.

Poor door, but determined.  It stared back at him proudly.

Carrie sighed.  "Fine.  If none of you are going to ring the bell, I guess I will."  And she proceeded to do just that, triggering a chain reaction that would forever change the lives of everyone involved.

* * * * * * * * *

Videl, for the first time in ages, had all of Gohan's attention.  He wasn't just listening to her, or watching her while the gears of his brain were miles away, but he was paying attention to her with all of her being.  He was completely at her mercy, and she was enjoying it.

There was one thing that had more power than the Frying Pan in a Saiyan's life.  At least to a Saiyan that had both of his hands in casts, that is.  And that thing, dear readers, was a spoon.  Due to the fact that both of his hands had been broken, Gohan was no longer able to feed himself, and that duty, along with some more unsavory things, had fallen to her.

But this was something she could enjoy; controlling a Saiyan's food intake was the ultimate power of them.  She grinned wickedly at Gohan.  "Surrender?"

Gohan stared at her, chin firm.  "Never."

Videl raised an eyebrow.  She also raised the spoon.  Gohan swallowed, eyes following the polished silver utensil loaded down with some rather appetizing beef stew whose scent was making her hungry, despite the fact that she'd eaten only a few hours ago.

"So," she asked again, making sure she wiggled the spoon in tantalizing fashion, "do you surrender?"

Gohan's black eyes flickered up to her face again, his resolve continuing.  Inside, she giggled.  A Saiyan stuck between his pride and his appetite was always an amusing thing.  "Come on," she teased, "all you have to do is say it."

The smell of Chichi's famous cooking was just too much.  She couldn't help it, and shoved the spoon into her own mouth when Gohan took too long to consider his answer.  This of course, he noticed, and began to whine.  "Hey," he protested,  "That's my dinner!"

"Not until you tell me what I want to hear," she returned, loading her weapon again.  "And it's very good.  I'd hate to see it go to waste."

Gohan eyed her face, then the spoon.  Videl grinned as she saw the wheels in his head come to a screeching halt.  "Fine," he said flatly.  "You were much better than I was at the whole superhero thing, and the Great Saiyaman poses were stupid."

"Very good!"  Videl cheered.  She'd been waiting years to hear him say that.

"Can I please have my dinner now?"

Videl cocked her head and studied his face, noticing the saliva that had gathered on his lips.  "All right," she conceded, and stuck the spoon into his mouth, "but next time you have to say it like you mean it."

"Awww…c'mon, Vi," her mate protested around a mouthful of hot stew, "I'm hungry!"

"Maybe," she replied, channeling her evil streak, "but I'm the one with the spoon.  Now say it again."

Gohan grit his teeth, but now that he'd actually had a taste of his lunch, he was desperate for more.  Videl knew she wouldn't be able to spoon it in fast enough shortly, but she had to have her fun first.

"Once is enough," he reasoned, still eyeing her hands.

"Really?"  She retorted with all the gruffness a lifetime of working with hardened criminals and stubborn Saiyans developed.  "I don't think so.  Now talk."

The harsh metallic buzzing of the doorbell saved Gohan from any more humiliation, although he was quite aware of his mother and sister-in-law lurking outside the kitchen door to watch.  After the excitement with the Knights was over, most of the others had headed for their homes, the exception being those who had been injured.  They wanted to be around when Bulma decided to rescind her edict on the regeneration tanks so they could be healed as soon as possible.

Of course, they had woken up that morning to the buzz of the media, pests that they were, and the accompanying headlines.  Bulma had called up the entire legal department to deal with it as Trunks was incapable of speaking at the moment and she too stressed, but it had been her father who had eventually gone out to deal with them.  

Bra's assistant had brought copies of all the major publications with her when she'd been summoned in the wee hours of the morning, and she and Bulma were trying to sort out the mess.  There was a cleanup crew in biohazard suits working on the wreckage of the living room, but all of the Saiyans still steered as far away from it as possible.  Whatever that creature had been, the smell it left behind was making them all edgy, especially Pan, who couldn't seem to get past it without an emergency trip to the bathroom.  Bulma had sent her back up to Trunks to rest.

She blinked as the buzzer, obviously the one at the back door, rang through the house again.  "Does somebody want to get that?"  Dende knew if it was one of those reporters she'd be likely to steal Videl's gun and shoot him and make an even bigger mess of things.

"I'll get it!"  Twin voices piped up in unison as feet churned towards the door.

"Oh no you don't," Marron chastised, leaning away from her spot on the wall where she was watching Gohan's…situation.  She snagged each of her five-year-olds by one arm twirled them back around in the other direction.  "If you're going to torture anybody, go torture Barden."

"But Mom!"  Protests in stereo sound were an amusing thing.  Bulma was glad she'd never had twins.

"But nothing," Marron chided.  "Go…go paint his toenails or something.  Just stay away from the door."

Astounded at being given permission to wreak havoc, the two little girls bounced off up the stairs, happily chattering about Barden, who was about to get a makeover no matter what he thought about it.

Marron scooped her small son up off the floor, settling him on one hip.  "We'll get it!"

Juugo beamed.  "I help!"

"Sure you can," Marron agreed as she wandered off in the direction of the door.  "Just look like a monster, okay?"

"Grrrrrr!"  Juugo roared obediently.

Marron chuckled.  "That's it.  But wait until I open the door, okay?  We need to scare the reporters away."

"'Kay."

Bulma changed her analysis of the situation.  Poor reporter.  Marron alone was frightening enough when she wanted to be, and she had a trainee to corrupt.  A very enthusiastic one too, judging from the growls that were carrying over.  Pitying whatever poor soul was at the door, she turned back to the stack of newspapers in her lap and began helping Athena compile lists of comments to refute or enforce.  The back of her brain noted that there weren't any yelps of pain or fright, but she didn't pay it any mind.  Whoever it was must have been smart and gone in the other direction.

She was not expecting to see a rather bewildered Marron lead a crowd of strangers back into the room.  Studying them carefully, she decided they really were strangers, although they looked very familiar.

Marron glanced over at her and shifted Juugo to her other hip.  "We have visitors," she announced tersely.  "From the past."  She glanced at her companions.  "No…the future."  She blinked, thoroughly confused.  "The past future?"

The blonde boy smiled a smile that Bulma had seen before, but couldn't place.  "Close enough."  He turned to Bulma and offered her a much more hesitant smile.  "We're from the Mirai timeline," he explained calmly.

Bulma paused, coffee mug poised halfway to her lips, and stared.

Seven faces, two purple, stared back.

A brunette stepped forward, something akin to awe in her eyes.  "Hi?"

Marron bounced Juugo on one hip and watched, a rather amused smirk settling on her lips.  "What's next," she mused, "Saiyans visiting from hell?"

"Ssshhh," Chichi scolded from next to the kitchen.  "Don't give anyone ideas!"

* * * * * * * * *

TBC…..


End file.
